Hybrid A Criminal's Redemption
by Tetsuna
Summary: Half human, half quig. For every answer, there is another question. For every bend, there is another stretch of road. A winding journey, a demon at every turn, and a lead Traveler with a major attitude problem...Before Bobby, before Press...there was him.
1. Start

**(A/N: Alright! For those of you who don't know, I share an account with someone else under the name 'Tetsuna'. Maybe I'll write up a biography and everything later, but for now, this will be MY first fan fiction, ever, so please take the time and read and leave a constructive review :D .**

**Summary: What if, before Bobby and Loor, Press and Osa, there was a Lead Traveler who was part-Quig? What if he is the basis for their existence, as well as for all other Travelers, that all other Travelers and every other particle are a piece of a far bigger puzzle than we first expected?**

**This is the story of the Hybrid, one of the major founders for the space plot. Better yet, he's a criminal with an attitude and killer style.  
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** WARNINGS: strong language, mild to strong violence, humorous moments, and some references that might rate this a little higher for age-reading, so in case you come across something like that - in which I promise will not be there superfluously, but a major part of the plot if it is - then READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Ratings may and most likely go up in later chapters. Ye have been warned!  
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**Many thanks from my symbiote for any reviews for her stories, whoever and wherever you are, and I hope that in time, you'll accept me as a writer as well, and I hope to be at least half of the one she and the rest of those reviewers are.**

** Thanks to my Beta reader/Acolyte, who makes it look like I really did take English courses with a passing grade, and whom is forever my best friend, though we are very far apart. Thanks again, love!**

** Remmson: Enough already! Get to the story, you sentimental freak.**

**Me: Tch. Talk about nerve...Anywho, here we go!)**

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**Journal #1 Second Earth (1-4) Start  
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Before you go asking, yes, there are several journals that come before this story that I'm about to relate that has to do with my background and origin. They're safely buried in a time capsule, in case anyone wants to find out about me later.

No, I'm not that sentimental to wonder who's going to pick it up and read about my biography. If you must know, I was talked into it by a...friend. Which is the reason why I'm writing ANY of this in the first place - if I had a say, then I wouldn't.

I mean, who in their right mind would believe even half the crap going on in here?

So, with this new volume of my already messed up life, I will begin by describing myself to you with this dumb-ass quill pen, and hopefully everything else that's happened so far, to hopefully a friend back home. Let's say that I'm writing to you and the guys, Josh (though mainly you). Like I said, this gives me no great pleasure at all by relating this. I mean, who reads people's journals, anyway? Besides nosy people, I mean? Don't they have other things to do with their time?

Don't _I_ have something better to do with my time?

(And the sad truth is...not really.)

So here we go. Best to start from the top, for those of you who don't know, and for those of you who know but can't remember me:

My name is Ten Remmson. I run a mercenary group on the streets of New York City, with the current year being 1981. I look between seventeen and nineteen years old, and not until later will I reveal our true ages, so you'll just have to wait and guess. I'll give you some clues as we go.

So. My hair is jet black, and grows faster than garden weeds, for now braided in a thick ponytail that reaches to the small of my back and leaving overgrown bangs that come to stop at my eyebrows. I'm tall, at six foot three and a half, scrawny with knotted muscles and pale skin, and I have steel-hard fingernails that resemble claws.

My eyes are a very light brown, amber to gold, like sap on a tree, with a slitted pupil. They're narrow and make me look like I'm bored or glaring or just plain out of it. My teeth are white and pointed. I wear a lot of skin-tight, yet comfortable clothing - leather is, for some reason, is very appealing to me, the same going for the two gold hoops in my ear.

My interests?

Eating rare meat. Eating. Eating. Strategy, fighting, winning, singing, observing, sleeping, zoning out, reading, practicing, stealing, killing.

Math, physics, and science.

Eating.

Killing.

Practicing my killing techniques.

Eating whatever I kill.

And rock music.

My non-interests:

Radio feedback, it hurts. Losing. Getting hungry. My strange symptoms. Breaking a nail. Loosing a tooth. Eating something gross. Getting caught. Talking, listening, staying awake, singing, eating cold meat, being locked away, used against my will, da-dee-da-dee-da...

Things I absolutely hate (once again, for those that don't know): Entertaining people, losing, being outwitted, talking, listening, staying awake, breaking my nails, loosing my teeth, waking up too early, being dissed, math, science, physics, bad music, and stupid people.

By now you may have noticed several of these things popping up over and over again in different categories. (Just because I use math a lot doesn't mean I have to like it either.)

And most of the things from the non-interests list may go into the hate list. Everything in there, in fact. ESPECIALLY the last three and radio feedback.

What else?

Occupation: merc leader of the baddest in these parts. We're a pack. We love our job.

My _current_ situation: ...I'll get to that.

The situation of when all of this started: ...Well then.

--

Never.

Never again.

Never again will I ever let my heart fall to anyone. Always, the same round, the same thing, the same outcome, _every single fucking time-_

Ever.

I had picked out a special place for the two of us, me and Jess. I'd spent a lot of energy 'wiping down' that building - ridding it of crack heads and other idiots, drug dealers and overly-amorous couples, for an entire day. Just for us. I wanted this to be special.

I'd scrounged around an outdoor Italian restaurant next to the rich gents and ladies, posing as a young waiter in order to steal the most expensive ring I'd ever seen off of some lady's finger while kissing her hand. (Like I said before, we love our job, and I love mine.)

I'd prepared everything, just right. Today was Judgement Day. Today, I was going to ask her the big question, which would then decide our lives. I could finally be able to sit back in luxury with her, the one person that I cared for the most. I'd neglected my teammates, my _friends_, over my obsession with her, put off entire raids, just for her. Got the ever-loving shit beaten out of me, for her, because she didn't want the guy who was about to rape her to die by my hands. And for good reason on that too, by the way: his death would have been too slow and painful for her to watch, too messy, too violent, and so...so...long.

He would suffer so...so...badly.

But I'd refrained.

For her.

All the arrangements in case she did say yes were made. I'd pushed out the thoughts of rejection, because I knew that she'd never say no. We were too...too close for that.

Tonight was going to be special. I'd cut from 'work' several hours early in order to rush over to the warehouse, where she was supposed to meet me, hoping to surprise her by popping up early because she knew that I didn't get off until nine o' clock that night.

I can remember so, so clearly. I'd been so excited, actually smiling with...hope. I was actually happy. It was a first, and I could get used to the feeling. Even though everyone stared at me like I was a retard with this huge grin on my face, I could've actually lived with it.

But as soon as I got ready to turn the knob on the installed door, I froze in my tracks.

Something was wrong.

I pushed my incredibly acute hearing a little harder, and could hear..._damn it_, I thought. _Those stupid punks had come back._

One of the amorous couples, and some guys downstairs smoking and drinking, and presumably playing cards. I could smell no heavy metal objects on them besides knives, so there was no threat of actual automatic arson.

Ah, yes. Not only do I have an awesome sense of hearing, I have what many people would call 'superhuman' senses, in which I can hear a flea jumping off a dog a mile away, zoom in on graffiti saying "Here There Be Crappers" on a subway station bathroom stall, abandoned and _in the dark_ under layers of about four different kinds of mold and piss in very miniscule pencil writing, and be able to pick out prey in a crowd of everyday people, not to mention know everyone in that crowd by smell alone. I can feel vibrations and level restriction by so much as walking or by touch, and could probably find you at night in a thirty story skyscraper during a blackout with my eyes blindfolded, using taste, smell, touch, and hearing, and not only come upon your exact location, but track you as well.

I will tell you why as soon as I find out.

And of course, the 'sixth' sense. I can tell when you're lying and when you're not, can feel when something's out of place and when everything's in order.

Many things were out of place now. I'd just cleaned that building out of such things! Who were they? And why did they somehow feel safe enough to come back, and bold enough, in fact, to be up there in the room that I'd redone myself, in _that _bed?!

My thoughts on this?

_HELL no._

I opened the door and casually stepped in, in which everyone turned and flinched, as though in surprise. What, were they not expecting this?

"I don't care who the hell you are," I'd growled. "If you have no business with me, then get out."

I'd made sure to lock that door, too. Housebreakers. (Though I can't really talk.)

They moved slowly, and I stepped aside from the door to let them out. Yeah, they knew who I was. I don't know who gave them the okay to come here. What, do I wipe out buildings just for the fun of it?

They all practically ran once they were past me and out into the street. Rolling my eyes, I turned toward the staircase. That couple upstairs would have to be dealt with, too. I paid a lot for that bed that they were using. The groaning of the metallic springs may have been slight, but it was like the sound of grinding gears to me.

I bent my knees a little and jumped for the top in a single bound, and almost didn't make it because of the wall of scent that hit me like a sack of turnips.

I hate turnips. Or anything else that's a vegetable. You can put that on the list of things I don't like and hate up there too, while you're at it.

I managed to land softly outside the door, which was open a crack, filtering sunlight from the windows through as orange with motes swirling round in the beams and shadows throwing themselves in different shades upon the walls.

I was frozen still.

_I recognize this scent._

This - this couldn't be happening.

I listened, smelled, tasted, felt, anything to reassure me that this situation was not happening, and not with little hesitation. But it was true.

This scent was _hers._

And _his_, the man I refrained from suffering a slow and painful death, the one that I spared in that alleyway when he tried to rape her, something that I never would have done if not for _her._

The scents were heavy and clogging up my nostrils, making every hair stand on end, sending thousands of sparking information to my brain and every part of my body. The sounds, everything. The air smelled and tasted of them, tangy and cloying like spices. My ears had amplified the sound of the now frantic screeching of the groaning springs in the mattress, the gradually rising moans of lust, and I hated it, _hated it_, hated the emotions and reflexes that were being incited within me, ones that I'd _never_ let myself feel before -

-Shock, slowly being overcome by anger, but it was only surface-dwelling -

-A bubbling jealousy that slowly tinted my vision in an array of colors -

I swung the partially open door forward, and once again, the scene became still, as though I'd hit the pause button. Both stared over me with shocked expressions on their faces.

Hers was changing from feral pleasure, to deep aggravation that her lover had stopped and she too, now trying to see who the intruder was, to surprise, to shock, and then to flaming embarrassment and fear.

He rolled off of her and she pulled the sheet up to her chest, blushing hard, though I couldn't see what for. I'm sure she would have turned me away if I'd been someone else. She had no shame at all for this, apparently, until I walked in. Why start now.

And I simply stared at her. I hardly heard her quick and stuttering excuses. "This - this isn't what it - oh God, Remmy, you _saved _me - dearest -"

As I surveyed them, I felt the reflexes and emotions suddenly turn on me, violently. Gone was the disbelief and shock, along with any _hope_ that I'd carried there.

Jealousy clouded my vision in scarlet, breeding savagely with my anger until I could only see shadows, and it was this that found me standing on the foot board of the bead with her neck enclosed within my hand, ready to snap, get cut off, or roll if I so much as twitched it.

But the emotions gradually began to fade from my view. It left me with an awful, yet satisfying, nearly-empty feeling that threatened to spread and swallow me up.

She fell back to the bed with a thump, and I didn't even bother with her would-be rapist. I jumped down and turned for the door.

"No, baby - Remmy _please _-"

I thought twice, and took the ring in the box that I'd procured from my pocket and bounced it hard off her forehead. She shied away like a frightened doe, but looked at it. Her lips formed a silent 'o', and she looked up to find my eyes once more. A bold move, coming from her.

It seemed that she knew this too, but nevertheless, she did.

All of my lower opponents and everyone else had all been stared into submission by my eyes. It was another trick that I was very good at, and I'd used it time and time again in order to retain my dominance over them, to show them who was in charge. It was an emotionless glare that only faded that morning, when I'd felt hope, happiness. A cold gaze that could make one feel so inferior to me.

And even to my mild surprise, it was I who turned away this time.

The little part that remained of emotions and reflex told me why. It was supposed to have been _me._

I had wanted it to be me. Only _me._

I did not ask why. I did not care anymore. I knew that these new emotions were too good to be true. 'Disappointed' wouldn't quite say it for another few hours or so.

I turned on my heel and left.

Snatching up the left-behind lighter from the guys around the coffee table downstairs, I set the flame to a few rotten timbers at the doorway and windows, then walked away. That was the main reason that I'd wanted the building wiped in the first place. I'd only wanted to use it for one night only - it was too old and beat up to allow to stand.

So, to ease my suffering, I went across the street to the cafe to watch it burn. I could hear the screaming from inside over the billowing smoke and crackling flames, but it seemed at a distance, for once. I was zoning out again, and found myself not really caring either way. There was an epic battle going on inside me, and the destruction and healing was fighting hard, making the empty hole within me expand and contract, gaining land and taking it away.

Someone set down a big mug of coffee in front of me, and at first I ignored him, thinking that he was just another employee.

Then that someone sat at the table across from me.

I looked up.

There sat a guy with a mess of blood-red hair, and intense blue eyes that brought up a jolt in my brain, but I ignored that too. He was...handsome, I'll admit. (I'm totally not jealous, you hear.) He was wearing his employee uniform and visor, but looked like he should be a swimsuit model. Whereas I was scrawny and knotty, he was just slender and well-filled out with a muscular frame, like he did construction work part time. His eyebrows had an aristocratic arch, which made me think that he must have come from a rich and well-bred family, but his eyes were too...sharp and calculating for that. It was that almost predatory look, the one that many people get over the years of doing my job, or a job close to it.

I think what stood out the most about him to me, like with other people staring at said fire starter, were his eyes. They were familiar. They were cold, and icy, and they stared into mine as though he were trying to read my very thoughts.

But there was something off, and it went beyond his eyes.

As I've mentioned before, my senses are almost ten to twenty times sharper than a regular person's. I literally know_ everyone _by my senses, mainly smell.

And this was what put me on alert: where he sat, was like the air had a mix of...this planet, but _other things_ that I never even knew existed. Where was he from, space?

(Actually...)

The guy had mimicked my pose in crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest, but stared at me intently. I was half expecting myself to turn into a butterfly and flutter away by the way he was staring, and so, after a long silence and a sip of good old coffee, I finally tired of this game and flat out laid it down.

"What the hell are you staring at? I know I look good, but...you aren't my type."

He broke into a grin, a gleaming white smile that rivaled mine but didn't reach his eyes.

"Why, Remmson...you know that I have eyes only for you. And I caught you staring."

Bastard.

I took another sip of my coffee nonchalantly, never dropping my gaze. It would not be wise to let this punk think he had the better of me.

After a few more moments of silence, I voiced my thought aloud.

"So, since you're obviously not a worker here, what do you want from me?"

"Oh?" he said with mock surprise. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've worked here all year 'round."

"Then if that's the case, you'd know that since there are only so many people working here, you don't get a break until ten; it's six. On top of that, that earring is far too expensive, and I remember that I nicked it for someone else entirely to pay off a debt. This job doesn't bring in a lot of money, and you really stick out like a sore thumb. And," I added, inhaling quietly, "I've not smelled you here before."

Understatement.

"Hmm," he chuckled quietly. "Very observative for someone like you."

I tried to act like that didn't sting, but in my current state of mind, it caught my attention anyway, and I could not suppress it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He took a sip of his coffee, making me wait. I hated it when these bozos thought they owned the fight.

I _hated_ to lose.

He looked up again over his mug and said the very thing that would reel me in like a stupid fish.

"It means, in simplified words, that it was an incredibly smart accomplishment for a dumb, half-bred homeless boy..."

I set the mug down rather hard upon the tabletop. Snapping was inevitable.

"Have you got a problem with that, punk? You've got a lot of nerve talking to me at all - I could end up being your killer. I don't know who you are, where you came from, or what you want from me, so the question still stands. What do you want?"

"Nothing more than your cooperation," he said, staring at his perfectly manicured nails idly. I suddenly had the impression that not only was this just another stuck-up rich boy, he wasn't from here, either.

"On?" I pressed, trying my best not to bare my teeth and draw attention to myself.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he said, toying with me. "Don't you know what you are? That you are not human, but something more, something...inter-dimensional?"

What was this nut job talking about? I mean, I'd kind of figured out the part about not being human - that was easy, considering they didn't have claws, fangs, and yellow eyes. I was losing it fast.

"So...what are you getting at? That I'm an alien?" I snorted, taking yet another sip of coffee. This one was no threat, but the warnings still stood. He may have looked like a regular human with pretty eyes and drop dead gorgeous body ( I'm NOT jealous, I MEAN it), and just another employee here at the Cafe, but there was one major thing that stood out, and that was because he really didn't have a familiar scent. I _had _to investigate.

It _was_ familiar, but distantly, and I didn't bother trying to figure it out. This one ventured onto my turf with a purpose, and faced up to me with almost complete control. I should at least hear what he had to say.

"Actually..." he said, locking eyes with me again.

And I guess you could say that this is the beginning to my new life.

---------

Like I said, I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's not like I trust these to anyone but myself, and it's not like anyone, especially me, would go back and look on these later to hear how some half-human, homeless, juvenile nut-case had a fantasy about saving the universe.

But then, remember who we're talking about, aye?

This new journal would be kind of a new leaf, as a hero, a savior to the people.

A Saint!

Yeah, right.

If I'm any of those, then I'd be pretty lousy. People would be employed in this city.

You know, just as a side thought, I wonder that if people write about me as much as I write about them in my previous journals. Probably not, but I know how I must seem to them.

I actually caught a look of my description on the notepad of my arresting officer after a car robbery, when my hair used to be a lot shorter and not in the braid. "Long black hair, wolf eyes, overlong clear fingernails, pointed white teeth, six foot two in height, unknown weight -" (And here's the part where, since the car lacks the gate separating the police in front from me in the back for some reason, he notices me glancing over his shoulder with great interest and a leer) "-basically, the description of a devil."

"Devils don't have wolf eyes, man," I pointed out. "Nor 'unknown weight' and that height."

The officer had turned around to glare at me, in which I was enjoying a little too much. "How the hell would you know, moron?"

"They're not morons either."

"Hah! How would _you_ know? I'm sure that _they_ wouldn't pull off such a stupid-ass trick with a car like that, let alone one that didn't belong to him."

I then proceeded to calmly point out that actually, devils had any other color and shape of eyes than wolf eyes, and that they were only six feet tall at most. Once again, he asked how I knew. I explained this with great patience as well - I'd met four and shared a drink or two, dealt a few drugs, and pulled off way trickier than this. And besides, I added as an afterthought, they probably could have done the car-heist and crash _far_ better than I ever could, which...did not make them anywhere near being morons...absolute geniuses, come to think of it.

The officer had just stared at me.

"Then what the hell are _you_?"

"How the hell should _I_ know? Devils don't weigh as much as I do."

"How much _do_ you freaking weigh, then?" he demanded, losing his patience. I love being annoying to the authorities. "Between a hundred and two hundred. Not sure, but I think..." -and here he fumed- "Nope. Dunno."

"THEN HOW WOULD YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ONE WEIGHS?!" he'd practically screeched.

I merely shrugged, keeping a straight face. "Not as much as your mother, I bet."

"Why, you little _punk_ -"

-Anyway, after this rather violent, and yet uproariously hilarious exchange - though he didn't seem to think so, poor, dull guy - I caught the word '_freak_' written in capital, underlined letters. Wow. This guy not only didn't have a sense of humor - apparently, he had no imagination, either.

Yeah, golden eyes. All of this seemed normal to me at first until I took a look at the rest of the humans walking around NYC and noticed that they were virtually defenseless, but had plenty of hatred.

Outcast in a world made up of millions of look-a-likes. There is no real place for me. Shipped from one home to the next without a thought, brought up on the bad side of the streets, and all-around criminal. That's me.

I've killed people (indirectly sometimes, but it was still good to watch them scream as they died) and stolen drug money for the sake of myself and others as unfortunate as me, mostly children or my 'pack' (also referred to as 'brood'). Two million dollars is enough to buy myself a nice house and all, but I don't want luxury anymore. Luxury is just another word for a lazy life, where you become soft and fat with no survival skill, and any senses that you may have had become dulled when other people begin to do things for you.

But as always, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Like I said, not a lot of people probably know this or that I exist since I move in the shadows of the human world, so if anyone found this, it would be like finding a rice-paper scroll from the Orient in a damp haystack (not as hard as a needle, but pretty hard).

So, here it is.

This red-head, Dominick Fraser as he called himself, excused from my table after refilling my mug with the most annoying smirk that I've ever seen.

I was left alone at the table to enjoy my last good drink and decide what to do next. The cafe was nearly empty since people went to watch the pyrotechnics across the street, but I didn't care. The less of 'human' presences, the better.

About thirty minutes after what was to be my last of peaceful moments, I finished my drink and left without a tip. It wasn't like they could stop the likes of me, and besides - from what I saw of that waiter, service was pretty lousy.

I walked down the street with my hands shoved in my pockets, staring up at the sunset. The sun was blocked by those buildings, but the lights of the sky didn't change. Autumn did that, with its pale blue, orange, and pink beauty. Would this be the last time that I ever see such a sunset? It made this end of New York look wonderful, with the brown leaves rustling around in the wind.

Every day I'd asked myself this question. At every end of the day, it would come up, and in the end, I would always conclude that it was alright. No one cared if I lived or died, and I didn't live for anyone.

Thus, the simple answer was that metaphorically, I wasn't alive, so it did not matter.

The buildings became shabbier and darker as the Bronx began to become part of my world. The sun, and now the sky, was blocked out now by the darkness and shadows of the compacted neighborhood, and automatically, my dimming vision became brighter.

I was going to visit an old friend of mine, a lady and her son that lived down in this old train station. It wasn't every day that I visited humans, of all things, but these were different. You could say that they were my back-up crew that made sure I had my supplies before I broke into something. And come on; this woman was raising her son on her own, homeless, without any support but me to give her twenty-five percent of whatever I had.

Hmm. Nothing eventful about this place. It was boarded over and grimy, and just crawling with rats. Slipping between some of the spaces in the slats, I made my way further in until I came to a pile of rags, blankets, and boxes against a pillar.

"Rem, that you?" said a hoarse voice. I turned to the pile and saw that a part of it was moving.

"Jill," I said as the woman hobbled over.

She was dirty and smelled like the bottom of a trashcan, with matted long hair that looked like it had been attacked by a lawnmower, and looked so pale from no sunlight that I could have spray-painted my nickname in white and not have been able to see it (though I really shouldn't be talking). Her large, smelly, overcoat was about seven times too big, and her feet were wrapped in rags, since she had no shoes.

Taking small, slow steps toward me, I resisted the urge to cover my nose. All humans stink, but she really reeked. I know that it's not her fault, seeing as the conditions down here were terrible, but still.

"What do you need?" she croaked, smiling up at me with yellow teeth and chocolate-brown eyes.

I glanced to the left to see another jumble of rags come moving out of the pile, but much smaller, accompanied by another moving lump that seemed to be around my age, brown hair and all.

"Who's he?" I asked.

"Oh, that's a new kid that I found. He's homeless too, a prison-breaker."

"And he's helping you?"

"Yep. He loves bein' around Mikey all the time."

The kid kept his distance, uncertain. His brown hair was short and water slicked in long bristles, and when he took the blanket off of his shoulders, he wore only jeans, shoes, and a tattered white T-shirt that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks.

When his dark eyes fell on me, they brightened, and I had the feeling that he knew who I was.

"This is Jayson Niles. Jayse, this is Ten Remmson."

"Yo," I said, almost in boredom. I came here for more than to be introduced to this scrawny wimp, but fine.

Niles smiled and said the very last thing that I thought I would hear from anyone else.

"I've been waiting for you."

Unconsciously, I handed over the two-hundred dollars in cash to good ol' Jill and drawled, "Huh?"

"You'll see," said Niles, winking. He broke his gaze from me and picked up Mike.

"Can you and Mikey go back inside?" he said casually. "Ten and I have something to talk about."

"We do?" I said, still a little on the tail end of the situation.

"Of course."

Old Jill nodded, took Mikey, and went back inside the pile of rags and boxes with a parting smile. The poor lady had no idea of what she was letting happen.

When all was quiet, I finally plucked up the brainpower to ask my next question.

"Who are you, kid?"

"Please," he said, extending a hand. "Walk with me."

The guy walked over to the platform and jumped down, then gestured for me to join him. It would not be smart to be caught by a train and become a pancake, but then, if I stood here waiting much longer, the train might actually come, and I'd miss whatever was in store for me.

Plunging headfirst into an adventure is one thing, but plunging headfirst into the train tracks was almost a whole other story in itself.

Never being one to pass thrill up, I followed him down into the pit and along the tracks. I've heard (and tried) that thing called the third rail. I figured it would be best to dodge that and walk along the sides of the walls like he was doing. Often, I had wondered if you could fit between the platform ledge and the train as it passed by, but I've never tried.

I don't think I'd like to, either.

We walked quickly down the tracks, Jayson leading the way and me picking up the rear. It was now so dark that I couldn't even see my own hair, which, ironically, had to be the darkest shade of black there ever was. I suppose that even my night-vision had its limits.

It was only after we'd walked about a hundred feet, hardly a good jog down the tracks that I heard an ominous growling in the darkness.

_Grrrrrrrr..._

Ah. Jayson looked a little anxious now.

_Grrrrrrrrrr._

My eyes scanned the shadows, and when I saw what was straight ahead of us, I pulled up by two steps and grabbed Jayson by the collar, yanking him back just in time.

A dog - and I'm talking about a real brute, about as big as a freaking grizzly bear - had leaped up and snapped its huge teeth down right where his head would have been seconds ago. I swung Jayson behind me with my left hand and flexed the fingers on my right, hearing them pop and crack with satisfaction. He couldn't have led me here on purpose - not even I would be stupid enough to do such a thing with so many dogs.

More growls, more dogs, all of them stalking, their yellow eyes trained on us. This fool had just led us both into an ambush!

There was only one thing for it.

I flexed my fingers again and held up my hand at the ready, bared my teeth, and stared the biggest one in front of us dead in the eye.

Those eyes are like mine, I thought to myself. They were the color of molten gold, bright and shining, wild and feral...untamed. Like me, it was loose, free, and didn't give a damn about what was happening around it. The perfect killing machine.

As you guys know, we have a lot of dogs in our little 'pack', along with thousands of rats and cats and birds and other manner of tough New York critters that like to hang around. We refer to them as 'the kids' when we're talking about them in a friendly way, or in possessive. My 'kids' love me to death, and would follow me everywhere if I didn't command them not to. I've had too much experience and time and patience bred into me at such a time to back down now.

Perhaps it is my strange affinity and toleration when it comes to animals that makes me the way I am.

My hair stood on end. Like them, I would take no shit from someone below me.

"MOVE."

And to my surprise, the dog blinked. It relaxed a little, as though it had lost its fierce composure, then finally sat back on its haunches with a confused expression on its face. The other dogs followed suit, and soon, the tension died.

The lead dog scooted forward on its belly with a slowly wagging tail and sad eyes, giving me its best puppy look. I dropped the intensity of my stare and voice, as well as my hand, and reached out to stroke it down in a loving way.

It nuzzled my hand and licked it, and at that moment, I knew that they were all no more than docile puppies. All of them bellied forward to do the same, and Jayson said, "It's time to move a little bit further."

"Oh, already?" was my lightly sarcastic remark. "You mean I wasn't here just to meet these dogs?"

Jayson didn't answer. He strode forward out of the mass of wiggling fur-balls and went to one of those doors on the wall. A lamp, perhaps the only one on down here, was situated on the lintel, where, bathed in its orange glow, was a star scratched into the top of the door.

"This is it," he said.

I moved to stand next to him (the dogs following behind with lolling tongues and happy eyes) and merely raised an eyebrow.

And then he opened the door.

I knew that there was something overly strange going on as soon as it swung open. I was hit by a barrage of unfamiliar smells, but like...the closest that I can describe had to be of static electricity. Like a violent, twisting super-cell storm trapped in a hallway. Use your imagination, but the feel of a thousand bugs racing across my skin and making every hair, even my eyebrows, stand on end made me feel exhilarated, itching for adventure, but also some unknown caution.

This was the entrance to a huge concrete tunnel, not exactly with a large diameter, but definitely long and going on into darkness that even I could not penetrate. The tunnel itself was stone and sonorous, so if I'd known this old tunnel was here, I'm sure I would have had a dork-blast with making my voice echo.

As it was, that wouldn't be too bad of an idea.

"Echo," I said, and was rewarded with the echoing of my voice, though amplified to so loud that the loose gravel shook.

Jayson smiled at me and motioned for me to step inside, and when he did, he closed the door behind us. Probably to keep the dogs out.

"So, are we any closer to figuring out what is going on yet?"

"_You_ aren't," he simply stated, and I twitched an eyebrow. The need to go was making me short on patience.

And then, the strangest - maybe one of the most puzzling and terrifying (I'll admit I was more than just startled) thing _in my life_ happened to me yet.

Jayson opened his mouth and said, "Denduron" - and the tunnel began to writhe and glow. Yes, GLOW. It was like staring down the throat of some other person when they were about to be sick or either if your vision was swimming from being high; it was, and pardon the cliche', alive.

"THE HELL?!" I shouted, and made a move to scramble back towards the door. I didn't want to be here when whatever it was coming out of there found us, but as usual, my luck had run out. There was an inevitable tug pulling me back to meet the rushing light, and the sounds, like a jumble of sweet notes from wind chimes filled my ears and blasted my eardrums.

"Come on, Remmson," Jayson laughed, beckoning that I come join him. The hell I would!

But as it turned out, I didn't have a choice. The approaching myriad of lights hit us, and when they did, I saw a whole new tunnel. This one was all white with what looked like jagged crystals all over it, and a slipstream that held me floating upon it at an incredible speed.

Something was terribly wrong, and yet so right, and so confusingly _not _confusing; it was as though I had just left behind the world that I knew, and not just the city, but the state, country, continent, _Earth, Solar System, galaxy..._

...Several universes that didn't even belong to me...

But through all this, I felt safe. Freaked out a little, but still safe. At least I wasn't going to hit the walls, because that would have really hurt to impale myself on those things, and I still had this mysterious twerp with me as well. Like a tour guide, I guess. I could call on him if anything got hairy.

I calmed down enough to ask a few questions and hoped that my body would not betray me.

"So what is this thing, Niles?" I asked him, staring at the walls. I could almost see through them, as though they were transparent and giving me the view of space and its stars.

"This is called a flume."

"Heh, somehow that's a good word for it."

"Yep. This is taking us to a place called 'Denduron'."

"Which is?"

"My home territory."

"...Which is?"

"A territory is the Earth in different dimensions. So we're not really leaving, but not really not either, if you get what I mean."

"UM."

"Hehe, I know. You'll understand one day - I still don't yet."

"SO...how long is this going to take? I feel as though I''ve just lost track of all time."

"You said it yourself. There is no time. We're passing _through _time and space..."

I folded my arms behind my head and chose to stop asking confusing questions with confusing answers. I may have been intelligent, but at the moment, my brain capacity was shrinking. No more information until I arrived. And besides, this was kinda fun...

"And, since you come from this...Denduron...will they have anything good going on? Like, money-wise?"

He shook his head at me. "When they said you were a criminal, I thought they were talking about you personality. I guess they were right about that, and talking about your occupation at the same time."

"Oh, yeah! Yeah! So then, is there?!"

"No, but it's something more. All this time, I thought they were talking about you metaphorically..."

"Hn?"

"That you were a criminal, a killer, and not afraid of death. A true daredevil that hated the world."

I snorted lightly and replied, "I don't know how you failed to misinterpret that. And who's 'they'?"

"The other Travelers."

"I'm not going to ask. Just be quiet until the end of the trip."

"Hn," he said, mimicking me, but I let it go. I was more focused on what I'd find at the end of this living tunnel. Perhaps a planet full of little blue martian-related aliens that could disguise themselves as humans like Niles, maybe Dinotopia, or maybe in King Arthur's days? The basement of Harvard University? Carnation milk?

Now, there's a thought, I chuckled to myself. And speaking of food...

"Niles."

"Nails."

"...Huh?"

"Call me 'Nails' now."

(I will learn why later.)

"Yeah, fine, whatever. I'm hungry. They got a um, 'Starbucks' where we're...'flumin'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you're hungry, we'll treat you when we get to a friend's house, if you can hold out that long."

...Actually, that was kind of the whole point for announcing that I was hungry.

As I have mentioned about 'superhuman' strengths pertaining to me, I guess it's best to tick all of the ones that I've figured out for myself to you:

Acute senses, mathematical accuracy, speed to outrun a ferari on a good day, jumping, being non-containable, taking dangerous risks head and fangs first. Ehm, singing, but like I said, I hate it too much to do it.

As for 'symptoms and side-affects', besides animals following me at really weird times without my consent, powers of persuasion, and once again, rushing into dangerous situations, this is when I become stressed. Like a headache or an incredibly fast metabolism with a really mean appetite, I mean. I don't know about anyone else, but the loss of my girlfriend like that, and Dominick, Lord-of-Ass Fraser (I'm still not jealous, I _mean_ it) from the cafe, counted immensely as stress.

This is probably my fault for forgetting, but I can't help but think that Dominick had something to do with me leaving before eating anything light before looking for Jill. I'll probably never know, but for now, let's place the blame on him.

My stomach rumbled and roared, like there was some sort of satanic cat in there trying to claw its way out, up my throat and escape in a belch. (I dunno why that happens to some people, but you get it). I needed food.

Now.

I'd probably only hold out for a few more minutes or so, and I began wishing that this remarkable ride were over.

I got my wish about ten seconds later.

The flume deposited us very gently in another sort of cavern. First rule to survival: observation. I lifted my nose to the air and inhaled, tasted it, let my fingers drag along the rock walls until I was certain.

"Mmm, a mountain cavern?"

"Yes. They were right about you - you are very observative."

"Shut up and get me something to eat. I'm in no mood to talk," I snapped irritably. I clutched my hands to my stomach as it growled threateningly. This was urgent. If I didn't get food soon, then it was a very good chance that my appetite would overpower me - and God knew what would happen then. This was no time to talk or be polite about asking for someone to hurry up.

"Sure, but put these on first."

He indicated a pile of stinking animal skins. This smell was very rare in the city, after all, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that I was no longer in the world I knew and preyed upon. To be honest, I really wanted to eat them more than wear them, but patience, Rem. Patience.

"Be sure that you take nothing with you. Nothing from where we came, got it?"

"Whatever." I clamped my mouth shut hard. I had to keep it closed, I had to. I practically leaped out of my clothes (not time for a slow strip tease now) and figured my way around the leather and skins. Can you believe that they don't wear boxers here? This would be killer on me later, but for now -

"Aaargh," I moaned as another wave hit me. I had to hurry this up.

"Come on, you can do it," said Nails, cheering me onward. He had no idea what kind of danger he was in. I finished strapping up and followed him out of the cavern and into the bright sunlight, where I saw an amazing sight that made me forget about my hunger temporarily, a brief miracle.

I've never been at the very top of a mountain before, but this thing was huge, about the size of whats-its-name in Alaska that they called Dhenali or some shit.

The snow looked iced over and slick upon the jagged dark grey peaks of cliffs further down, to where I could see a valley and what looked like rolling hills and plains, covered with trees.

This place was beautiful! But what really caught my attention was that there were three suns on three sides, all of them in the position that I guessed was afternoon.

Yes, three!

It was an absolutely glorious sight that was suddenly ruined by a jolting reminder that I was running out of time.

"We need a way off this mountain, and fast."

"I've got a sled -"

"No, I mean FAST. NOW."

"Why? Are there Quigs?"

" What?" This was no time for talking gibberish! "What do you mean, 'Quigs'?"

"They're really dangerous. Did you see any yellow pillars?"

I took a quick glance behind me and gave my report. There were quite a few, actually, sticking up out of the snow like a quarry.

"Many. I'm receiving bad vibes from those, but now, you're gonna get bad vibes from me if you don't get your ass moving!"

"Hey, we've got nothing to fear," he said, the dork. "You're part quig anyway, so you should be able to protect us..."

I had no time to register what that meant because it was starting.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!" I snarled as a huge wave hit me so hard that I could swear that this was the roar coming from my stomach itself. Problem was, this was a mountain full of 'Quigs'. Echo.

Haha.

I was about to find out what a Quig was.

The ground began to shake and tremble under my feet, and those yellow, two to three foot tall stones began to rise up out of the snow. These were the spines of a monstrous grey beast that reminded me of a really, really big bear with an enormous box head, like a dire wolf. This thing had tusks for fangs, sharp as razors and glistening with long strings of drool hanging from its chin.

But their eyes. Again, they were yellow.

I think there were about five in all, all of them ridiculously huge with vicious claws that could cleave through flesh like a hot knife to butter, and, most of all, they were hungry.

Like me.

The closest one to erupt next to us was so close that Nails stumbled backward and fell pretty hard on his butt and elbow, scraping it well on the ice, but he scrambled back up towards me. Heh, like that would help.

I grabbed Nails's wrist and without thinking twice shot toward the drop off. It would be better than that slippery slope, if not safer.

In a quick move, I tossed him over my head and onto my back and leaped off the edge and into the cold void. Right off the side of the mountain.

-Now, before you go thinking I was suicidal, remember, I'm not human, per se. How do you think I managed to lift all that drug money AND that promise ring by just going in the old fashioned way? My life has been spent mostly in the air like this, so I was perfectly fine jumping eight stories.

Thankfully, this was only about thirty feet, but it was still a pretty good drop. The moment my feet touched the ground again, I began to run with a turbo-charged spring in each stride, pumping my legs and then stopping, to glide over the gently rising and dropping slope.

The beasts behind us were persistent. They dashed uphill with wild roars of bloodlust with mind-boggling speed and agility. As it was, one was actually running beside me at a good forty miles per hour. Remember that ferari? I'm sure that this thing looked like it was only taking a stroll. Though I was keeping up with it, or vise-versa, I still felt unbelievably slow.

I never feel like that, ever.

We cleared the slope and came sliding down the other side. I noticed that we were running out of snow; the ice was about to hit clay-dirt and soft loam, not to mention the tree line. At this level, I could see the fields and such in front of them, with cattle.

Mmm, cattle...

And we almost made it.

Almost.

We would have made it in and out of that territory if not for one teensy weensy little problem that just had to come up at that point: I couldn't suppress the hunger anymore.

Even as I began to stop gliding and just run flat out to pick up the pace, I knew the transformations were taking place. My nails hardening like rock, the teeth growing slightly in my mouth and muscles beginning to expand and contract with more force.

There was nothing else for it. With a sudden pulse that jarred me so hard that I fell on all fours (sending Nails toppling forward on the way), I groaned, "Wait for me at wherever you're going."

Nails protested. "But you won't know where I -"

"I'll find you. Go!"

"But-"

"GO, DAMMIT!" I snarled. Nails scattered.

Another pulse hit me, and every hair bristled. It was like that static electricity feeling that I'd had before at the flume - but it only lasted for a second.

I turned around and roared my challenge at the on-coming beasts, strands of gleaming saliva flying from my mouth. All of them stopped in a half circle, skidding their paws into the snow.

They may have been way bigger than me, big enough to probably snap me down with two bites, but I could tell by their eyes that they weren't used to having someone so small stand up to them like this.

I'd used my automatic illusion to appear larger than I really was, like a cat when it bristles. I took a stiff-legged step forward with my right arm. It's not a 'superpower' as much as it is a natural ability in all animals - even humans, if they pay attention long enough - to pull around you a shield of nothing-to-lose and confidence, intimidation to appear several times larger than you really are.

The confusion in the Quigs' eyes flickered into something like fear, and they all took a shuffle back

That was good. I tried to rise onto my legs, but it was nigh impossible, and I only got as far as dangling my arms somewhere around my knees like a hunchback before I roared another one. _Bring it on, bitches! _my hyper cells screamed.

A light grey Quig to my left returned the challenge. The scent was strangely familiar, like with those dogs - a female Quig with an attitude.

Well, we couldn't have that, could we? It was a showdown now, to see who ate who first. To confirm my intentions, I began to circle, looking for the best way in.

Round and round, I'm gonna eat ya; round and round, you won't win...

It was truly amazing, now that I look back on it. Of how I strut my dominance around the city back streets as though I own them - and technically do - looking to my subordinates like the most superior thing they've ever seen. I seem so in control of them and everything else, and yet, can't even control myself. One day, I would find a remedy to this. I repeatedly tell myself that I don't care where I came from, how, or why, as long as I'm still here. But that too, is a lie. I want to know quite badly. Especially every time something like this happens.

And then a piercing shriek cut through the air.

Remember, I _hate_ feedback and any sharp sounds, but it seemed like the thing to save me.

All of the Quigs lowed deep like oxen and began to shake their heads back and forth, growling and snarling in pain. I joined them, staggering back onto my heels and covering my ears with my hands. _What was that?_

Vibrations were coming from behind me, at the tree line. I spun around to look, and it was none other than good ol' Nails, followed by more pale weirdos in skins with long stick weapons and - could it be - tiny, wooden whistles. Nails was blasting it for all he was worth, and every breath made my head spin.

I didn't know which way was up or down, what was right or wrong, light or shadows; all of it was whirling, tilting out of control in explosions of burning spots of light.

Something whooshed over my head and tightened around my neck firmly. I chanced a glance down and saw that it was a rope.

"Trust me, Remmson," called Nails, and began to pull me back.

Naturally, I resisted. _How dare he drag me like a dog! **I'm** in control! _my cells and hidden arrogance shouted angrily. I pulled away, but as the whistles kept blasting and the ropes kept tying and tightening until I felt my ears and eyes would bleed, I began to lose control of my arms and hands, and eventually everything altogether. It wasn't worth the fight, but my blood would not let me give up without one. The more I sank down, the more it got angrier. I stomped down on it brutally.

The Quigs, utterly lost in the confusion, no longer paid me any attention. What was left of my conscience let me relax, although very reluctantly, and be dragged back towards the tree line, where everyone grabbed onto my wrists and began to rush me as fast as possible toward what looked like a little colony of thatched huts in one of the valleys.

"Hurry," I hissed through clenched teeth to Nails, who simply nodded. The scent of the blood on his elbow, in which he hadn't been able to patch up during the predicament, was getting stronger, and if I didn't eat soon, this could get really ugly.

I believe I've mentioned eating whatever I kill.

And I mean, _whatever_ I kill.

Oh, yeah.

We entered the tiny village, where a lot of construction/reconstruction was going on. If I'd paid it any attention, I would have noticed that they seemed to be recovering from a storm or attack of some such, but everyone was quite happy while they worked. Quite a few of them glanced up at us in surprise from their work, wondering what in the world we could possibly be doing that required leading me like a wild horse towards a corral with all these ropes.

There was a hut that was medium sized, about the size of a small house (huts are actually kind of bigger than you think) that we entered through a woven door, and the interior looked like it was made of mud and stone (sod). Pretty strong and weather tight, but it didn't have to smell like a landfill.

I brought my knees up to my chest to make them drop me, and began to tear at the rope around my neck. The more I struggled, the tighter it got, so I chewed through the line holding the knot shut to rip it off.

Nails and a few others quickly set down wooden platters of...yes. It may have looked like a pile of steaming carcasses and ripe fruits and berries, but it was food, nonetheless.

All composure forgotten a long time ago, (I've noticed that I become less sharp as a hungry nut case, with a few other problems that, I promise, I will get to explaining later) I dug in at anything that came toward my mouth. I was in a hurry to be back to normal; the hunger is terrible. The food actually wasn't all that bad, either. This pig looked like a delicacy from the rainforest back home, where it has those yummy clumps of water snake all over it and the glaze. Freshly cooked and warm, but none of the things to eat had blood. I guess that was alright - I didn't need to go into a frenzy over the mutilation of fresh kills.

I sat back, full, and politely inclined my head to the rather shaken natives. They gave small smiles of relief and talked to Nails in some weird kind of language.

I picked my slowly shrinking fangs with a splinter of bone as I watched.

"Ja notcho kehr, dahnca-ku barishia jiiv," said one of them wearing a little less clothing than Nails and me. I supposed the extras were for that mountain up there, though I didn't feel it. Thus is my tolerance for cold.

Nails answered him back, "Thank you for your offer, Wayra. I'll help out on the projects tomorrow."

Wayra left.

"Okay, what was that about? How come he can understand what you're saying, but won't reply in the same language?"

"He is."

"But you're speaking English."

"No, I'm not."

Now I was really confused. He was definitely not speaking in the same language.

"...So then, are you going to make me wait to ask you more questions, or will you tell me more?"

Nails came to sit beside me on one of the piles of skins that was heaped in the corner, like a mat. He crossed his legs Indian-style, and I saw that he'd bandaged his elbow while I ate. "Travelers, you and me, are speaking two completely different languages, but we understand each other. We hear all languages as our own. Weird, huh?"

"Don't get me started," I groaned, massaging my temples. I pulled off some of the heavier skins that served as a snow coat until I was left looking pretty much like Nails. Furry breeches that came to my ankles and bagged for a lot of room, and a top that didn't cover my midriff, but had a fur lining on the shoulders and hood. No sleeves that I could see, though.

I sniffed the clothing.

"These are deer skins, kinda?"

"Yeah, kinda. The fur comes from their rears, though. They're really funny looking compared to the ones on Second Earth, with big furry bottoms."

"Hehe, that must look strange. Hence the term, 'hind', eh?"

We both laughed quietly.

I picked at a stray thread on my outfit.

"Have they got anything else higher up on the fashion scale?"

"Well, since everyone looks at you like some kind of god or something -"

"Eh? What gave them that bright idea?" I said, surprised. I didn't want people worshipping me!

"I told them the truth, that there was a Hadouin - a Quig - in human form. They see those as highly symbolic creatures that no one messes with, and they want to be on your good side. The Milago, this tribe here, want to be on your good side because they are about to engage in a war."

"A war?"

"Yes. The neighboring tribes, Kelta, Bedoowan, Fargandwa, Jiinjan, Ramax, and the Michi are all prepared to do battle for the land that they live upon. Apparently, there are few ambitious ones that are thinking of trade for science and slavery."

"This stone age place is already thinking of science?" I asked incredulously. "Looks like it took a while."

"Yes, they're slowly evolving, but not in the correct way. They're already sending ships across the ocean to some of the coastal tribes, and already, one of those is coming over here to meet the challenge. The Novans want to at least try to defend themselves."

"This is...getting complicated."

"Indeed," Nails agreed. "But at least the Milago are going to get you better clothes."

"That's a relief. Having no boxers is really pushin' it right about now. Don't they know of anything called 'cotton'? It would definitely be better to wear than these skins."

Nails chuckled. "Like I said, trade is starting to come into effect. I wouldn't doubt that they had the finest waiting for you already."

"Mmm," I said, and toppled onto the skins. They didn't stink as bad as the clothes, but still. Rankin', man.

My eyes were heavy, and all this excitement called for sleep. I didn't want to be awake to talk to Nails anymore, or try to get my head around all that he was telling me. I accepted it as it was because what other option was there for me? This was an evolving world, and I didn't want to go back to that hellhole that I'd grown up in. This was just fine by me.

I temporarily forgot about the pack and kids that I was leaving behind.

In a few moments, I was out like a light in a dreamless, uneventful sleep.

**- **

**Denduron (continued)**

-

I awoke God knows how many hours later with my eyes practically glued shut by sleep and my face shoved into the crook of my arm, my usual sleeping position. At least my mind was clearer now, and that was good because I was ready to take on questions and answers.

Turning over on this weird little pile, I noticed that several things had been left for me: a stack of what looked like very primitive, yet effective paper, an ink jar, a funny little duck-feather quill (but it was in shades of yellow), and more piles of furs, yet all of them folded very neatly.

I looked over and saw Nails already sitting up against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He appeared to be dozing. That was fine by me for now.  
But what was really getting to me at the moment was the need to explore. However, since I didn't know what I was doing, I'd have to listen to whatever Nails said.

"Yo," I said, tapping his shoulder. His head fell forward, and a loud snore that would have sucked all the dust off an antique shelf emanated.

I tried again.

"WAKE UP!" I shouted, and was pleased to see him jerk awake. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked at me and frowned. "I wasn't asleep."

"And neither was I," I retorted.

I sat down and began to unfold the big pile of furs. They looked like ones to sleep on, and were absolutely soft. They smelled like fresh spring flowers, which was a total contrast to the ones I was sleeping on now.

I took advantage of that situation immediately and shoved my previous skins aside to lay these out in a neat, fluffy jumble, and sit upon those. Ah, bliss.

I unfolded the smaller set and found actual cotton. These were soft material and fur, with what looked like primitive, but astonishing jewelery on top.

"What're all these?"

"Those are your new clothes," said Nails, scooting over to watch. "I've never seen such fine jewelry such as this. See these blue stones? This is glaze."

"Glaze?"

"Yes. This is another main reason why the tribes are fighting. This valley that we're sitting in now is famous for its glaze mines. Since this new type of currency turned out, trade has been trying to expand. When the other region of tribes' glaze mines ran out, they came here, the richest deposit in the world. But of course, these tribes here were not about to give it away without a price. They thought it was unfair, blah blah blah, now they're gonna fight for it and make everyone their slaves. There are Warlords looking for ultimate conquest nowadays."

"Whoa, wait. Basically, they think this is a good luck thing, making me fight for them? Over a bunch of pretty rocks?" I summarized.

Nails stroked the trace of a goatee on his chin thoughtfully. "That about says it all."

Well.

I didn't know about Nails, but there was no way that I would be getting into a war over these stones. It was pointless, and I had no reason.

But then, I did like to kill things for reasons unexplained to even myself. Perhaps this was the chance to have a bit of fun for once, and maybe keep this land to myself in the end. If people were even half the bad-asses they thought they were, maybe I could challenge them. I may not be the strongest in the previous world, but here, I could possibly rule. The scenery was wonderful, and did not deserve to be torn up by a bunch of stinky idiots like these.

I merely said "Hn" to Nails so that he knew he got through to me, and would have jumped out of these stinky skins right there and then if I hadn't detected a river nearby. I didn't like having their smell on me at all, and would rather go nude (but they might find that offensive and not like me anymore), but at least here I would be able to take a bath. Nails began to write with his own funky quill (in shades of green) upon the light brown paper while I got ready to leave.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he'd asked.

Normally I would have taken this as a statement that he'd liked me in some way, but it seemed that he might be invaluable after all, in case I got jumped by the villagers or some other hungry beastie during my clean-up time. I merely shrugged and stepped out between the leather flaps that marked the door.

Wow. I guess, like any other caveman village, this would be totally cool. The place smelled like animals, alive and dead, woodsmoke and sizzling fat. The sounds of construction were going on all around me, and I saw small scaffolds next to the huts bearing four people at a time with mallets and nails and other such building tools.

There was something that I guessed was the market, the center of the whole village, in which racks of meat, fish, fruits, vegetables, and crops hung. Hmm, a food place, expensive things, tailor's shop, everything that the village ever needed...was right here on packed down dirt.

I decided not to pay any of the people any more attention. I was still feeling rather groggy, and I needed a bath. I could hardly stand it itching and scratching on my skin, and having no boxers or socks...I was starting to hate this place already.

A stream that ran on the outside of the little village was full of fishermen setting out their 'nets', these circular, woven baskets on a piece of rope that really reminded me of a lobster trap; and women with actual baskets, scrounging for shells and edible vegetation. I noticed that everyone seemed a little afraid to go in the water, and I'll admit, it was at least twenty feet across and running fast beneath its placid surface. Stick your foot in and you'd be sucked under and away.

I highly doubted that they knew how to swim. Their fishing equipment showed me that.

I avoided them and walked further down, where the stream widened and passed beyond the tree line on the eastern side until I could hear the sound of it thundering on worn rocks by the gallons, and the villagers were nowhere in sight. Clearing the trees, I saw that it too was not very big, hardly any more than another five feet wider than the other one to get to the other side. Maybe it was a tributary or something.

But now that I was here, I had to find someplace upwind of the flow without as much strong current. When I found it, a small area blocked off by what appeared to be fallen boulders, I undressed and practically cannonballed in.

Of course, it was freezing.

Intelligence wasn't my greatest skill this morning, I realized, trying to force the frozen blood in my veins through my body by a miserably failing mental effort. What season was this, fall? It felt so nice out, but my sense of time had not yet returned. Looking up, I saw one of the suns being blocked by a mountain peak, and so took a guess that this was the runoff from the mountains. I should not be surprised to see snow floating along in it.

I sat with the water up to my shoulders in the mud, waiting to get at least warm enough to bend my arms. It took at least four to six minutes, and as soon as I felt the cold constriction in my chest ease its grip, I reached down stiffly and scooped up some sand. It wasn't a proper soap and scrubber, but it would have to do. Turning my nose to the side so that I wouldn't get a whiff of the smell left on my skin by those furs, I scrubbed until I began to look like less of a corpse.

And it hurt, too. I had pinkish patches all over my arms, but at least I could tell that my blood hadn't actually frozen.

Next up: hair.

I'd been meaning to for about a month and a half now, though usually it doesn't need it and I don't feel up to it most of the time. But hygiene always wins the fight. That stupid-ass hair tie slipped onto my wrist, and I had to un-braid the whole thing before ducking under the water.

I could hardly see a thing. Note to self: when you're going to wash your overlong hair and body at the same time, make sure it's a freaking swimming pool and that you bring clips because it can turn into a living thing under the water and not only blind you, but suffocate you. Like the alien face-hugger.

I didn't have any soap, so I used the next best thing. Just sit and scratch. _Attack the hair with everything you've got!_

I sat up and took a breath, strands of assaulted black hair falling over my face and trying to assassinate me by smothering me. I parted the thick curtain of it and gasped for breath, a little annoyed, and tossed it over my shoulders to rinse it out. At least this time I had the sense to bend backward to do it instead of plunging in with my head between my knees, but hey. My excuse, that I'm sure you'll find perfectly plausible, was that I was desperate.

Another note to self: _burn those clothes_. But in a blocked off space so that the fumes won't kill me.

Repeat the process twice, get out of that water as quickly as possible, and dry off in the sun since you don't exactly have a towel. I shook myself like a dog, squeegeed the rest of the water out of my hair, and then looked up to see Nails standing there, looking as though he'd just gotten sprayed.

And of course...he just did. Oops.

"Ehehe, sorry man," I said, grinning. He seemed unperturbed, though, and sat on a large flat boulder with my clothes in his hands. "No big deal."

I stretched in a patch of sunlight and nearly passed out as the cold fell away like the dingy old shell of a locust, then climbed up next to him and lay on my back. I didn't know what season it was here, though I guessed it to be the middle of summer, but one thing I knew for certain. There is nothing like a two and a half sun bask on a clear day.

Nails pulled out this funky spear, which really looked like a straight branch with one end sharpened, and turned away with the clothes on the side in order to poke at passing fish in the water. Vaguely, I wondered if I'd managed to accidentally catch a few in my hair and put them on the bank by accident.

I waited and waited rather happily as my body heat returned to normal, and as soon as I was dry, I decided to try on my new clothes.

HOWEVER, fate seems to keep throwing the most random of shit at me lately.

"Hey," I said aloud, tossing my thick hair over my shoulders again to keep it out of the way, "how do I..."

"The white cotton that looks like boxers/loincloth ties on the right hip," said Nails without looking up, thrusting the spear tip down and almost skewering a rather crafty fish.

"Ah," I said, mystery solved. "And the rest of it?"

"The big white shirt goes on first, and you tighten the drawstring at the waist..."

"'Kay..."

"And then the leather jean thingies go on next."

"I notice that I don't zip or button these. Like a shoe."

"Exactly. That's the new Bedoowan fashion, I hear."

I took a look at myself in a full length mirror in the water below me. Not bad. The pants had this weird slit-thing going on that went just to the thigh on either side of the leg, but the black leather itself was tight and snug, and actually made me look like I had hips! Sweet! The white cotton shirt was soft and very nice to to the touch, with a V neckline that showed quite a bit of my physique.

Hmm, I thought smugly. Sex-eh.

Now for the last piece.

"Just slide that up and over, and you should be done. I trust you know how to put on jewelery?"

I gave him a blank look before answering. "...Since when have I ever owned jewelery?"

Nails actually snapped his head up to look at me in surprise. He stared, then realized that I'd been joking. "You tie it on..."

"Oh shut up, I know how to wear the damn things, geeze," I scoffed, and tied the poncho-looking thing at the waist with a yellow and blue sash. This furry poncho was gray with black tips, like wolf guard hair, and had triangular slits up at the shoulders. There were holes on either side under the gap for the arms that I tied with the string there until it was good and tight, but maneuverable, and did the same thing on the same V neck part. I fit quite well, and in all, I guessed I was lookin' pretty good for a caveman.

Now for the tedious part.

The necklace of pure white fangs, inlaid with those glaze stones, had to be tied at the back of the neck with this weird little knot. I only had to slip it on, but I had to be careful when adjusting it. I didn't want to accidentally undo it and have to spend the rest of my braincells trying to put it back together.

The bracelets went on either wrist, a string of fat blue beads, a short sword shoved into the sash; and then, last but not least -

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Well, you don't have to wear it -"

"What the hell is -"

"It's supposed to attract the best girls, to show that you're a -"

"Macho? _That?_"

"Yeah."

"Screw it. I'm...chaste."

"Psh."

"Live with it."

I held what looked like a beaded tortoise shell with a long red strap on the back. At first, I thought it was a mask; but, seeing as their were no eye holes or anything, Nails confirmed that it was some sort of fashionable -

- "I ain't walking out there with everyone staring at my new, ultra-cool looking caveman _cup_," I hissed, tossing it on the bank. "You can wear it if you want, but that's going a little far for me."

"But the village women -"

"What about them?" I huffed. "It's not like I have to 'marry and deflower the chief's daughter and wives just to have some respect' around here."

Nails stared at me with a blank expression on his face that sent the scathing memo to my head for being correct so much.

My eyebrow twitched involuntarily.

I noticed that the fish he was trying to catch was still there for some reason. Probably listening in on our conversation and laughing it's head off. At the moment, I could swear that it was, and I wanted nothing more than to stake it to the end of that stick and put it out in the sun to bake while it was still alive.

_Don't take it out on the fish, Rem. It's just a bystander. That's about to get staked.  
_  
"No," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You can't be serious."

"Well, to be in good graces..."

"To hell with good graces. They're in _my _good graces, they'll get along just fine with me or I'll kill them all. There is no such thing as this, for I -" and here I struck a dramatic pose "-am a god."

"...A demon, actually. An evil spirit."

"...Shut up and go with me on this. I'm _not_ contracting intergalactic diseases just so everyone can like me and make them fight their war with me as their main weapon."

Nails held up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, good grief. Don't wear it, do it your way."

"Thank you," I snarled, and threaded my fingers through my damp hair.

Nails was still staring at me.

"What?" I asked in exasperation.

"I don't think you'll need to wear that after all to get their attention. You keep tossing your hair the way you do, and you'll have everyone's jaws dropping."

I blinked.

"Oh, you think? How well-seen of you. ...You know, if I didn't know any better, Nails, I'd say that that small gesture was turnin' you on, too."

"How could you say such a thing!" he shouted, but his face burned red. Hehe, struck a nerve at last. That's what he got for trying to make me wear Sasquatch's expensive soccer cup.

"Easily." I attached two fang earrings, one for each ear, in the lobes. These didn't look too bad. When we had to strip down at the flume entrance, I had to practically yank my other ones from my ears and leave them behind. I wouldn't have had to so harshly if not for certain circumstances, of course, but hey. At least now the pierces had stopped bleeding and throbbing. These earrings had to slide on and twist on the back of the ear, and my nails nicked stray clusters of dried blood flakes as they did so.

Nails sighed, fed up with me, and braided a tiny section of my hair to weave in two white and black feathers.

"There. You're ready. Now get out of my sight, you're making me -"

"Blush like a daisy?" I offered. Nails glared and shoved the grinning, overgrown, sexy and fanged brat that was me toward the forest.

"Don't flatter yourself."

I snickered and stepped in.

-

When I'd gone in to find my part of the river, I hadn't realized how much I'd twisted and turned to get there. Nails had followed me, but only a few minutes after I'd left to go to the bathroom. Now that I looked around, I realized that to a normal person, there were no other people to see and that we would be, inevitable, lost.

Thankfully, I am no normal person. The scent of humans was everywhere, rank and rather foul; these people probably didn't take baths very often. Ahead of me were the fishing groups, probably still poking the water with those sticks. And speaking of fish, I tilted my head to look at Nails beside me (determinedly not looking at me) and noticed that there was no fish on the end of the spear he was carrying. The little devil had gotten away.

I think I snickered again, out loud.

"What's so funny?" said Nails, finally looking at me and cocking his head to the side.

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"Remmson..."

"What..."

"Tell me."

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"No-thing."

"Damn it, it must have been something or other! Tell me!"

"I just said, nothing!"

"Now!"

"Fine!" I noticed that this meant I actually had something stowed away. So, just to spare him his dignity - or maybe just to bait him a little:

"No."

Nails twitched.

"_Tell me_."

"_No._"

"TELL ME!"

"NO!"

"_TELL ME!_"

"_BITE ME_!"

"TELL ME NOW!"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" I said coyly, turning my face away and smirking devilishly. "It's no big deal."

"Remmson!"

"Nails!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME?"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"

"WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!"

"WHY ARE YOU _YELLING?!_"

"Answer me first."

"Make me."

Nails groaned. I allowed myself a smug little grin that probably took up most of my face. Only you and I, Josh, ever argue like that, and for good reason: if _anyone else_ argued with _me_ like that, or started to, there _wouldn't be_ an argument _at all_. Or anyone to argue _with_. I suppose that things have been pretty weird for the last few hours of my life. I needed a way to relieve that, and I guess this was it.

But I think I had to let it go for the moment. Poor Nails. He knew I was goading him, but hey, maybe he was just bummed about losing the fish. Or was it something I said?

Hm.

We walked on, Nails scowling and I grinning like a jester. I was actually feeling pretty good about myself, and thinking what a great day it was. The birds were out, strange smells, but that of summer, was in the air; fresh, rushing water babbling in clear pools in some areas and leaves rasping in trees every time the wind blew. The sky never looked so pristine and blue -

And then there was a commotion ahead. People shouting and talking hurriedly, rushing back and forth.

What was this?

And then all of them rushing in one direction.

Nails hadn't heard or sensed a thing, still walking slightly behind and to the side of me and sulking. He opened his mouth to comment on something, probably a really late comeback, but I held up my hand to quiet him. Something was wrong. There was a strange new scent on the air that reminded me of those big stray cats in the alleyways.

But wilder.

Nails raised an eyebrow in question, but held his silence and listened. Now that we were drawing closer (I was in no hurry; whatever it was wasn't coming after me) we could hear the screams and shouts of the villagers on the outskirts doing their hunting or fishing. I could feel their beating feet in the ground, and determined that they were running toward the village, converging on a single spot, but not running as in "Ah, stampede!".

Well, not all of them.

Then, an ear-splitting screech, the battle-cry of some giant...cat, shook the air. They had jaguars here?!

"Oh, no," said Nails, and took off running, hand clutching the shaft of the spear tightly.

"Where are you going?" I said.

"Where do you think? I'm heading for the village!"

"Isn't that where the danger's at?" I pointed out, confused.

"Of course! I must go!"

I simply stared.

I'll probably never understand humans, but he was my only tour guide. Fighting hard not to roll my eyes but settling for grinding my teeth instead, I followed at a swifter walk than I had before. I wasn't going to just rush in without a plan. There was the scent of at least four or six on the wind, and I had to think up a strategy first. These things were a pack, hunting down the villagers and distracting the ones that put up a fight in order to go for the weaker ones.

Smart. I was nearing the tree line. Nails had already broken through and was disappearing rapidly into the distance, but I at least knew where he was.

The idiot. There was already the heavy metallic smell and taste of blood spilt in the air. Theses cats got around quickly. As far as I knew, they weren't in the village yet, but the 'protectors' wouldn't be able to hold them off forever.

My hand rested upon the short sword at my hip. The only time I'd ever used one was when sparring with you and Dwight, Josh. Otherwise, I've never really had to. You know that these 'claws' of mine provide ten blades instead of one.

I took my time thinking about it, but wanted to get there before Nails got himself killed. I was curious, and wanted to see what type of other beasties I was going to have to watch out for, even if I had to observe from a tree or something. I mean, me, save people I don't even know? Risking my life for total strangers?

But I needed him.

Damn it.

I broke the tree line and turned towards the village, almost trotting now. I had remembered when you and I had started out in the streets with our pack, we had to find a place to stay and protect it. We have terms that refer to everything in the simplest form, so this would be the 'den' or 'burrow', for those of you who don't know this. If one of us was out foraging, the others would have to stay behind and guard the place, because there weren't many. People literally killed each other just to have a better shelter.

Dogs did the same thing, too. Like with our pack, they had their protection force that protected the ones inside from invaders. Your only purpose is to fight back and protect your pack or die trying.

As I thought more on it, I decided that Nails was a protector-type for his village, and that's why he ran. He wasn't running to the danger, he was running to his post.

Maybe we weren't so different after all.


	2. The Chief's Pleas

**A/N: **

**Muse: Also entitled, "What Does 'Hadouin' Mean?" **

**WARNING: crude humor from our beloved badass.**

**Remmson: Hee.**

**Me: A few disturbing things as this story progresses; I may have to amp up the rating for those of you who like following the rules...I mean, don't get me wrong, so do I by all means, but if you're having fun so far, keep reading and be a faithful reviewer by leaving a reply and hopefully following the story no matter where it goes. I won't put in anything that has nothing to do with the context unless Rem is in one of his rambling moods, which isn't often, so just bear with me here and I hope that you enjoy chapter two! Hooray!**

**Fire (anon., my first reviewer): Thanks for giving this story a chance. You rock! ("Remmy"? Uh oh, sounds like a fan already!)**

**Remmson: (O.o fans are scary, but appreciated.)**

**Me: (grins) Ignore him, he's a tad cranky about what I had him do in this chapter and what he's going to do in the others. (cackles maniacally) Thanks again for the review, Fire!  
**

---------------

"Chaivihk!" Came the fearful cries from the running villagers, protectors and regulars alike. "Ninjhu ca! Chaivihk so ca!"

(At least, that's what I think I heard.)

The people were stampeding toward the village pell-mell, running for their lives, only to be cornered by the two beasts hunting them, blocking the way. As I crested a small rise, a tiny bump of a hill, I got my first look at one and was immediately reminded of panthers and Smilodon.

But they were huge. Define huge, then multiply it by like, I don't know, three, and you'll have your ultimate definition. They were long and black with silver ridges down their backs, and overlong fangs hanging from each side of the mouth; their whiskers were like ropes of black velvet, sort of like a really long dragon mustache that you might see in oriental paintings, that curled and basically floated on their own accord, like catfish. Their claws were retractable and hardly distinguishable from their fur, and their eyes were twin yellow moons, one for each eye, making them seem far larger than they really were.

The cats herding the villagers, trapping them between the village border and the river that they were fishing at, hardly made a sound. No unnecessary roaring or growling, just almost total silence, and the occasional hiss or low rumble. They smelled like the maple leaves of back home, of dirt and mineral erosion from rocks; these were sleek hunters that could go anywhere.

I realized the predicaments from the top of the hill, one being that as soon as they slaughtered this group, _then_ they'd hit the village.

The other was that I'd been so lost in fascination that I forgot to move to the lee of the wind. It was blowing at my back, and blowing my scent right to them.

The cats stopped in their mad chase a little at a time, the ones being held off by the hunters with sticks and swords being the last to look. There was a rather stiff silence as they raised their noses to the air and pin-pointed me.

Crap.

One of them pulled back its lips in a grimace, inhaling like a tiger, then turned those wicked eyes on me.

I flexed my fingers and felt the cuticles over my nails suddenly pull backward and the integument slide forward easily to a few fractions longer than they were, then smirked. It had been a while since I'd last killed something or engaged in a fight to where I'd actually had fun. This would be something indeed, if for Nails's sake. Not to mention, I'd be letting him down if I just stood there and watched them all get eaten. (Which was _exactly _what I'd been planning to do the entire time.)

The biggest one that was looking at me most likely sensed my eagerness, and turned from almost-bored, hunting machine to on-the-alert, thrashing tail, bared-fang killer.

We stood that way for a while, both staring each other down. My heart beat faster, and I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins, making my vision sharper, my breathing easier, my body stronger, and my sense of bloody fun all the more appealing.

The cat turned its whole body toward me and opened its mouth wide in a roar that made everyone present fall to their knees. I stood strong, squinting against the volume to my sensitive ears.

It was almost the last thing I ever did.

He took off in a blazing streak, so fast that I didn't even think something that big could do at all, and by the time I'd recovered from the sound blast, he was already halfway up the hill.

I grinned and sprang forward, nails cocked and at the ready. That sword felt like a burden to me now, heavy on my hip, but in the eight seconds it took to meet my opponent head-on, it had already become a light-weight phantom that I no longer thought anything of.

The two of us clashed in midair. I was amazed; the thing _twisted_ in mid air and tried to rake me from behind - I had to use a lot of my skill just to dodge it and come down rolling to a stop just to avoid being shredded. I skidded on my heels, then launched back and sideways, left hand first, and collided, then fell and rolled again.

Perfectly executed.

The cat had been in mid leap again, claws outstretched and fangs ready - and then fallen in six pieces, an icky mess that tumbled down the hill. I crouched on my haunches and licked the blood from my fingers.

Well, almost perfect. I'm usually so fast that I don't soil my hands at all, at least, not technically. Nor metaphorically either, I guess; killing's just natural to me, and there should be no regrets to it.

The cat probably didn't even know it was dead; one of my sloppier attacks (at least to me, the villagers thought it was amazing afterward), it was, in other terms, a perfect kill, but I always like to do better. Oh well, you can't have everything.

The remaining cats all twitched their ears for a moment, and then got angry - or went back to what they were doing without a thought. The villagers screamed as they expertly cut the 'herd' in half and weeded out the ones they wanted, then drove them back up toward the river.

Damn it.

I darted off after them. Yes, they had to be toying with them, because seeing how the one I'd just defeated had run, there was no way that these humans could possibly outrun them. And it seemed they knew it, too. Gasping for breath, crying as they ran, some already pissed themselves a while back. They knew they were done for, knew it was all over, but that one little spark of hope that if they could get to the river, they'd be fine.

But that was where their lives would end.

Primitives.

I leaped and sped over them, stretching out my arms for stability. Wow, it had been a while since I'd had this much freedom. The city and the mountain didn't count. There was an almost ancestral feeling that one got when approaching speeds faster than cars on the highway at such an easy, familiar pace.

I let go of of the rhythm and fell beneath the leafy foliage into a tree to check on progress and found that I was just a few yards from the stream bank that they used to fish in. People ran past, tripping and screaming, flailing their arms as wildly as the lights in their panicked eyes. The cats were but black streaks of shadows, and only then were they starting to make noise. They were growling with either anticipation or to scare them further. I could tell that this meant that the hunt was about over, at least as far as phase one was concerned.

The way that I saw it, the humans probably could not swim, and if that happened, then they could kiss their vitals goodbye. Their backs would be up to the river, and the hunters would be in front of them. They'd be cornered, but if they lost it altogether, they might jump in in an attempt to save themselves. That would mean that the hunters would be waiting either across the stream or at the end of it.By the looks of these beasts, they could probably swim reasonably well and would have no problem with the water.

I dropped from the tree as quietly as I could and padded through as fast as I could. Since the bank was so close, the trees were thinning and becoming overgrown bushes of thorns and berries and weeds that I had to watch out for. What was it with thorns? It's like they just dare you to try and jump across.

The screaming had stopped, but the heavy stench of fear still hung in the air. As I had suspected, the humans had stopped on the bank and had grouped together with their children in the middle, as elephants will do when they are threatened. The larger ones, the men (and here I spied Nails too) were on an outer ring with pointed poles held aloft.

What were they going to do with those? Poke them? These sticks may have looked pretty heavy and dangerous in my world back home, but here they really looked like nothing but useless twigs. By the size of those teeth and claws, they would snap like toothpicks. Since everyone had backed up from the bank into a slightly calm section of shallow water that came at least to below the knee, Nails and the other warriors were standing in the ankle-deep section ahead to fend off the cats, which had now broken formation and begun to really vocalize.

Nails had bared his teeth and tightened his grip on the spear, aiming the pointed rock tip at one of the circling beasts' eye. His shoulders were shaking, and I knew that I was right in coming to the conclusion that he wasn't a warrior at all. He was a strategist...and thinkers like this were not worth shit in the middle of a crisis unless they were in shape.

One of them feigned forward with a wild yell, but the beast hardly flinched. It hopped backward with an antagonized hiss and then forward with a snap of its jaws. The brave man nearly fell backward on his butt in his attempt to get away.

This was a standoff.

This was boring.

I walked out from underneath the rest of the forest and made my way over to the warriors standing at the ready...which meant walking past the cats themselves. One growled at me in surprise, but I ignored it and waded over to Nails. The men looked just as surprised as their enemies.

(Couldn't imagine why. This could have been over some time ago.)

Walking up to Nails, I placed my hand on his shoulder and locked on to his eyes to make sure that I got my point across. I could feel a vein pulsing in my temple, and decided to get to the point.

"You're an idiot."

He blinked.

I turned around and glared at the nearest cat, the largest. In all honesty, I didn't really know what I was doing, but those greenish yellow hunter eyes found my own, and it was like someone had turned on the mute button in my head.

Its bared fangs opened in a rumbling growl, and I _understood._ There was no way to really explain this, that it was more of a feeling than actually hearing it, but I'll translate the best that I can.

Why?

Huh?

I cocked my head to the side automatically.

_Why what?_ I tried, almost surprised to hear a hiss escape my own mouth. I felt Nails and the others either jump or stiffen beside me, but paid them no heed. This was far more interesting.

Why do you interfere?

Good question, I credited.

_I need them. You should go hunt something else, or attack later when I'm not here_.

Why? he queried again, flicking his ear. We were here first.

Ah, this might be slightly difficult. But before I could answer, he said something else. _Hadouin_ do not usually come down this far. Why are you here?

What? What was a "_Hadouin_"? Taking that he meant me in general, I decided to be honest.

_I am here because I need this village, but not for long. Its importance will soon expire._

"Aaaa," he growled simultaneously, making me flinch in surprise. To my further amazement, he turned away. His peers followed suit, stalking back into the undergrowth.

"Aaaaaa," they growled in unison, and quickly disappeared. The one I'd spoken to stopped and looked back at me.

I do not question the Hadouin methods. May you find what you are searching for, accomplish what you must; live well in the Hsid, die well as fate requires.

He disappeared too.

I let go of the breath that I had not realized I was holding slowly, my mind in a lock. I would need a moment to start up and then begin processing.

The warriors behind me all lowered their weapons uncertainly, but Nails nodded to them. It was over.

The crowd of people in the shallows, almost into the current, all breathed and cried in relief. Everyone was hugging and kissing, even performing a little step-dance in the water that I had to quirk the corner of my mouth at slightly. I wasn't sure what I was feeling - well, at the moment, nothing of course because I was still trying to restart my brain - but I figured that after near-death experiences, these sort of interesting adventures (another walk in the park for me, naturally) made humans giddy. Fighting not to roll my eyes at their lack of composure and easy happiness over something like this, I turned back towards Nails to begin asking questions.

However, it seemed like today's events were not yet over.

Since they'd been scared out of their wits, the humans had moved backwards, regardless of the surrounding warriors; the children were hardly big enough to come up to their parents' hips, let along stand in water that came up to below the _adults'_ knees.

So naturally, one of them had let go of their parent's hands long enough to try and come forward to the warriors in the outer circle. I guess they were relatives or something. He had tried to push through the people, but little as he was, he fell in and was dragged under by the current. Not strong enough to carry away an adult human, but certainly enough to snatch a child that small.

No one noticed he was gone until the parent he was with suddenly shouted, "Oondah! Kay ay oon-doh!"

Everyone turned around again in an attempt to see the danger, and there was the child, already yards away, choking and spluttering and struggling to stay above the surface.

I just stood there and watched everyone run along the bank to the child's rescue, extending the ends of the spear poles to him. I noticed that they wouldn't jump in. Just getting their feet wet when they first went in was terrorizing enough for them, I suppose.

Giving the equivalent of a mental expletive, I said to Nails, "They can't swim, huh."

It wasn't a question.

Nails only shrugged. "None of them can."

I only shook my head and took off downstream, becoming slightly annoyed. How could you live in this time period without knowing how to swim? If you couldn't swim, you probably couldn't get easy food, and without that, that only leaves the option of eating mud for supper every night.

The crowd had come to a stop, watching helplessly as the child was swept away. The parent he was with was crying her eyes out, and only two or three people went to console her; the others all either looked away or quietly moved backwards with the intention of heading back to the village.

I pushed through them and quickly calculated. The current would be too strong for an adult human to even jump in, if that could be the case. The water was starting to roar further down, and the kid could, would be, most likely smashed against the rocks. Nothing like rapids, of course, but definitely not a fun way for someone just above three feet to go, either.

_Fwoosh._

Preparing to leap, I had to double-take at the sound and at the group gasping, and to my final bit of aggravation, I saw something that in this world could be deemed impossible: Nails had jumped in to save the kid.

My mind was whirling. _I thought he said that they couldn't swim?!_ I saw that for the most part, that was true. He was little better than a three-legged poodle in there, thrashing about the way he was doing, but I had to give him credit for at least grabbing the kid and holding him above water.

Great. More work for me.

Fed up, I executed an almost-perfect dive and cut a line for them. I won't go into detail here, other than that I had the two of them by their collars and back on shore faster than it would have taken for the cats to kill everyone present, if given the chance.

Through all of this, I thought back to Nails last words to me before he pulled the stunt. He'd said that "None of _them_ can". Maybe in a wading pool, he'd be good at swimming, with no current, but I guess to these people, that was a remarkable feat.

I shook myself dry and wrung out my hair again. It was actually pretty cool that the clothes slicked down and seemed almost water proof. Except for the slits in the outer shirt that showed the white one underneath, the clothing underneath was almost completely dry. I made a mental note to ask Nails about this later, considering that at the moment, he was being worshiped like a hero.

As for the kid...he was coughing up water and being hugged to death by the woman that I assumed was his mother. Poor child, he'd already been strangled enough by water, but now for a crazy lady in skins, too? What was with this place?

Nails was being praised by the others, la-dee-da, worship-him-like-a-god-dance by a bunch of girls and even guys (I noticed that no one would approach me, and no wonder. I was a touch stir-crazy from all that was happening at this point, so sue me if I snapped at a few people and gave them angry glares) and hauled off on their shoulders back to the village. He waved to me, and I snorted in reply.

Yes, I'd catch up.

Folding my arms across my chest, I followed everyone back to the village, keeping an ear and eye out for anything else nasty and secretly wondering if the village had been eaten in my absence.

------------

Unfortunately, the answer was no. It was still intact.

-----------

About an hour and thirty minutes after the whole ordeal, in which we got to eat some really good fruits and meats and something that was like tea, and pretty much got pampered like princes (I guess the girls ain't that bad looking. Depends on your tastes), Nails told me to follow him somewhere.

Hoping that I wasn't an obvious homophobic and that where we were going would be at least peaceful without a bunch of squealing fan-girls (they're very clingy, I notice, and like to touch your hair; maybe that's why he looked uninterested in them. I guess I'm just paranoid), I followed without an argument.

It turned out that only one part came true - I obviously didn't show and probably wasn't a homophobic. But there would be no peace.

As I strode through down the village street with Nails at my side (not wearing the cup, thank goodness), I noticed that we were attracting a lot of stares. They were stares of wonderment and awe, so I did my best to look aristocratic and all. Perfect posture, my clawed left hand resting upon the hilt of my leather-bound sword idly, and my gaze ever expressionless and staring up. At least play the part of a superior person.

"I'm taking you to meet the chief," said Nails out of the corner of his mouth. "He'll want to talk to you about the future of his tribe and everything."

"Hold on, what was I here for originally? This? And how am I supposed to know all the answers? I don't want to fight for him. There's got to be another way around this."

"That's what we're here for. You just have to play your part the best you can while he brings you up to speed on what's going on. Mainly, he's just concerned about the crops and the invading animals, moving game and mining enough glaze. At this very moment, he's trying to bring up all the glaze he can just to give to you."

_Wow_, I thought. _That_ _would make a lot of money back home._

"Don't even think about it," said Nails, reading my mind. "You can't move objects from the territories around."

"Then how do you explain the sword? People on Earth have these, too."

"Good question. I don't know."

"..."

As far as I knew, he hadn't gone over this plan with me, so I resolved to act my best. I'm good at acting, most of the time.

Most of the time.

If I glanced out of the corner or my eyes, I could see that the people that we'd already passed by were either bowing to us or praying to us, but all of them were 'surreptitiously' trying to follow.

"Ignore them," Nails mumbled again.

This was all happening a little fast. Still unsure of what my actual purpose was here in the first place, I could only trust my tour guide in the matter. But the chief? What would this be like?

The Chief's hut was exactly how I had imagined it. Huge compared to the others, and decorated with torches and multi-colored charms. These sure were religious people. Two sentries, both wearing their brown fur proudly and assigned to nasty-looking spears, gawked at us.

"Tell Chief Quanahi that the Hadouin Wakk Tyruu-Ha has arrived," Nails barked. The two sentries, not nearly as tough looking anymore, ducked inside the flap of the door.

---

(FYI: Hah doh een wok tie ruu hah)

--

It was then that I noticed the faint smell on the fur over-shirt that I was wearing.

"Nails, this is... Quig fur."

"You noticed that? Your nose is pretty good."

"Hn."

The tent flap was suddenly pushed away and held open by an attendant of some sort.

"Nandi kawan, Hadouin Wakk Tyruu-Ha," said voices inside all at once.

Okay, weird.

I strode inside, Nails beside me, and was treated to the sight of, well, a regular hut, but with four rooms total. This was the main room, and against the wall in front of me was a jumble of furs upon a polished wooden bench.

Gathered around the bench were a bunch of Milago females, pretty and young; and one person sat upon that throne that was my main priority, the Chief of the Milago.

He was a big guy. Perhaps shorter than me by about six inches, but he had the width of two men and muscles to boot. He wore a big black fur mantle over a chest bare of clothing but covered with tattoos and a necklace made of eagle talons; and furry leather breeches (SKIRT, coughcough) that showed his legs, encased in the same fuzzy leg-warmers as his arms.

He had long black hair that came to his shoulders, and slicked back with animal fat, like grease. Braided into his hair were the same white and black feathers that I had, plus wooden beads. The guy was sporting all this blue jewelry, shining every time he blinked those brown eyes of his. In his hand was even a polished wooden staff with a perfect sphere of glaze embedded into the top.

Pretty royal. Just look at his daughters - all decked out in that cotton material and fur, like they were from some sort of child porn magazine. Good looking for the caveman days, indeed.

He was reclined in that thing, legs sprawled out and a fan bearer next to him giving him a really good breeze. This guy had it all going on, from perspective.

"Judikamar Chief Quanahi (kwa-nai-yee) of the Milago!" announced the sentries in unison. "The Almighty Hadouin in Human Form has arrived!"

Everyone in the room, whether they be guards or whatever else they were there to do, instantly dropped to one knee and kept their gaze down to the floor.

Keh, whatever.

It was only then as I started walking that I understood what they were saying. I glanced at Nails, and he winked at me.

Thus was solved another mystery on why I was supposed to be here. Somehow, I just got the feeling that he knew, that this was what he wanted me to learn. Hn, I owed him one.

The Chief immediately sat up and started paying a little more attention. ...Now, I'm guessing that there's something that they're trying to show off when they sprawl out like this, like their waiting for the whole world to notice and say, "My, that's some nice-smelling tuna you got there, but you know me, I'm claustrophobic" or "Wow, that turtle cup you wear really makes you look bigger than I thought!", but there was only one thing that I had to say about it, and I said it aloud before I knew what I was doing. (My mouth will get me killed some day.)

I looked down my nose at him (he probably wasn't used to that) and said softly, "Close your legs."

There was an immediate stone-cold silence in the room. Nails was looking out the side of his eye at me incredulously. I guess the visitor was not supposed to speak first, but to hell with it. He stank, it was gross, and he was wearing the freaking thing so that it looked bigger than himself. Either close your legs or let all those poor daughters die of suffocation, dammit!

He stared at me for a moment, slightly shocked at the request. I'm sorry that I don't follow your tradition of trying to compare myself to you, but you're gonna sit up straight like a normal person. Geeze.

He sat up, as though he'd heard me, and closed his legs slightly. Whew, that was a good thing. A few more moments, and I would've passed out from holding my breath.

Two fan-bearers rushed over to me and knelt down with these bizzare-o long poles, where these great big pinion feathers had been attached. They were pink and white, and, of course, beaded with wood and glaze.

Chief Quanahi (Winner of the Banana Split Award) stood up. At first, I thought that he was trying to size me up, like he hadn't tried enough of that with his relaxation stance of doom. He peered into my eyes closely for a moment, and when I narrowed them, I heard his heart pound a beat faster. To my satisfaction, he moved out of the way and gestured toward his throne.

Cool.

I stepped forward, spun gracefully on my heel, and plopped down on it. This thing had cushions, and a nice back to it that was puffed up to perfection. I took the 'scepter' and laid my leg across my knee, like a makeshift table (drummer style), and laid the staff across that too. Leaning back and relaxing, I made the best of my new seat.

I looked over at Quanahi with the ghost of a smile, and he sat down in front of me. The pretty girls all scooted farther to the back of the throne or snuggled to him. Nails stood on my right side, tall and cool as ever. See how he likes it to be in the presence of someone who at least does the split thing _properly_, without making everyone present black out.

Without a flashy cup.

"So," I said, not sure how far this language barrier-breaker went, "I hear, Chief Quanahi, that you requested an audience with _this_ Remmson, Hadouin Wakk Tyruu-Ha."

(Don't ask. It's just the way I usually talk, if I do at all. I sometimes get the feeling that I'm always pressing my dominance on other people, and this probably has something to do with it. Like I said, I'm a good actor, but sometimes I think I get a little carried away. We shall see how this results, for good or for worse.)

"Yes, Hadouin-Ha," the guy boomed. "I have requested said audience to ask about this year's crop and hunting."

"What about it?" was my flat response. Zero points for finesse, one hundred for getting to the point.

The guy looked a little shifty. "The crop has been poor, and the game has moved on into enemy territory. We dare not stalk them lest your beasts, and other Hadouin, claim our lives. Are we to starve?"

I gave my best reply nonchalantly.

"Probably."

The people in the room (except the pretty daughters) gasped.

"B-but Lord Hadouin!" he cried, sitting up straighter in the same Indian-style that I'd seen Nails do. Not showing off now, huh. "Are you going to let us starve to death? Our children?"

Once again, my best and most honest answer.

"Probably."

I stroked my fingers gingerly across the polished shaft of the scepter, careful not to let my nails scratch the wood.

"But I have a solution."

Everyone looked toward me, expectantly.

"Experiment new ways to plant your crops. Experimenting leads to knowledge, which later leads to wisdom," I said, milking my royalty-vocabulary and impression for all it was worth. Maybe this was a real idea. "Try not to disturb the beasts when they're prowling, and time their comings and goings."

I glanced around the room. Everyone was staring at me like I was speaking the most intelligent and wise words that have ever been said.

Psh, primitives.

"And don't fight your neighbor," I added as an afterthought, remembering a sermon or speech that I'd heard somewhere.

The room broke into an uproar.

"But they are our enemies!"

"They want our land for it's glaze!"

"They want it all to themselves!"

"All in the name of 'Trade and Progress!' Surely you cannot be serious!"

Everyone was arguing and protesting. Things would get out of hand soon if I didn't stop it.

Raising the scepter, I tapped the butt of the staff on the ground.

_Tap, tap_.

I then used one of my signature glares to sweep the room, patiently daring anyone else to speak up.

The room quickly fell silent, and no one did. I spoke again.

"When I want your opinion," I said to them, laying the staff back across my leg, "I'll give it to you."

Then, before they had time to process the unbalance of that little statement, I said to Quanahi, "Everyone must get along for the balance to be restored. The game is moving because it knows there is battle brewing. It would be smart to leave before the troops come in, begging the ground for every last drop of meat."

Everyone nodded silently.

"Fighting over something so pointless, these...stones...is absolutely pathetic. You shed your neighbor's blood over a handful or shiny rocks."

More murmuring, more nodding. I wasn't sure how far culture and tradition went as far as the rocks they were fighting for, so I might have to be careful. Then again, they were humans. If they called me up to answer this, then it was their sacrifice to at least listen.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," I went on, smirking inwardly at their reaction. Like a bunch of naughty children, these simpletons were only capable of ten brain cells at a time. Aw.

"Lord Hadouin, if you could converse with the Beasts and the other Hadouin, could you perhaps tell them to back off from us?" asked Quanahi tentatively.

Was this fool not getting it at all?

"The predators cannot follow the fleeing game because all of the tribes are about to converge in battle. There will be easier pickings with you from the battlefield, and they know that when it's over, there will be nothing left, and the game will return. I have no say in what to tell them to do."

Everyone murmured to themselves, but they agreed that I was right. Fighting was the wrong way to go.

I made a quick decision. Sighing, I said, "But I will consider talking with them."

Quanahi nodded his head wearily, though with a touch more enthusiasm, and stood up. He turned to his people gathered inside and said, "Then we have no choice! We will do how the Lord Hadouin says!"

More roars of approval. Don't wet yourselves from excitement now, sheesh.

But at least I was able to see where this was going, much better than how Nails explained it. These weren't the good guys, and weren't the bad guys. They were simpletons, total idiots, but trying to protect what they thought was theirs. I'd have to really come back and give a speech soon.

Quanahi turned to me and gestured to the pretty women around his little throne. "I bade that you take however many you want as your wife, Lord Hadouin."

Huh?

...Huh?

Ah!

I looked at them, and noticed that they were all smiling and batting their eyelashes, and trying to show a lot of skin. They were wearing these pale pink, pale blue, and cream colored gowns with a neckline that plunged to their navels, and slits in the robes that showed all of their leg, then tied a yellow or orange sash around their waists.

Their hair was tied back in a single long braid with gold ribbon woven into it, glaze earrings, and glaze necklaces. They were just sparkling, but what caught my attention the most was about how on the slits of the gowns, groin, and shoulders were those same colored feathers, downy and pinion. Talk about birds of Paradise. Whoa.

"Um, aren't they your daughters?" I ventured as they began to sparkle their eyes at me. Quanahi chortled and said, "No, no! These are my wives."

(Insert mind-lock and mental screech here.)

The age group for these girls had to be between fourteen and seventeen, some of them even with saddles of freckles across their faces. I was just getting over the trauma of the same, though not as elaborate fan-girls jumping me in the last few minutes, but now more? Permanent ones?! The mental image of being jumped every time I tried to go to the bathroom, leave, or take a bath made me shiver inwardly.

This was not right. I looked over at Nails for help, but he only gave me an invisible shrug.

Gee, thanks a lot, Nails. You can be my tour guide and drag me around everywhere, but you can't save me from a fate this scary. Tsk.

I spoke in my best superior, stuck up aristocratic tone without showing my paranoia. "What have I, Remmson Hadouin, of such needless things?"

"But...will you at least make more of your species, ambassador?" he asked in slight surprise. (Once again, traditional/cultural barrier here. Or at least, that's what I substituted as a reason to think that they hadn't lost their minds completely.)

The hell I would. Pfuh.

I decided to lay it down easy for him to understand.

"No. I don't need to do something so pointless. I don't approve of...said ritual, or any of these women. The natural balance states something along the lines of superior interference to your species being a crime."

He blinked. (I wanted to ignore that look in his eyes, something along the lines of serious confusion. Don't tell me that it had happened in the past, too?)

With that, before he could ask me any more dumb questions, I stood up.

"Besides. This is no time to indulge in personal pleasures. There is work to be done." I looked at Nails, who looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. "Time to go, Nails."

What a waste of time. It was good to leave.

And, with a small inclination of my head to Quanahi, I strolled out of that musty hut, every inch the superior being. It was good to finally let got of that scepter. I hate handling fragile things that look so cool, because of these claws. It's not as though I can just clip them, either. Like my hair and teeth, if I ever lost them, they'd grow back within the day, just as long and just as lethal.

I was determined to walk around some of the Milago farmland. It wasn't too different from the farms back home, except the techniques being used to plant them were awful.

I'm no fairy with the green thumb, bit it didn't even take an idiot (or maybe it did) to figure out what was wrong.

"So, what are you up to now?" Nails ventured as we walked down one of the narrow paths of the road, corn on our left and wheat on our right.

"You tell me - you dragged me into, after all. All I know is that these people are complete nincompoops, wanting me to go have a talk with my 'people' to tell them not to attack them, fix their farmland since they're not smart enough to do it themselves - and I don't know what this is about - asking me to impregnate a twelve year old girl for the sake of more generations of people like me."

"But, won't that be a good thing? A respected family lineage?"

I looked at him. For what is was worth, I considered him at least a little higher on the intelligence scale than myself, because I needed a tour guide. I realized that I should not have been so quick to judge.

"Use your common sense. You'd hate to be me."

"Why?"

I plucked something like a chive from the ground and chewed on the end, crossing my arms behind my head as we walked. I didn't have to think about the answer, really, but it was more in question of actually telling him.

Finally, I said, "Can you not imagine, Nails? How do you think I became a criminal in the first place? Criminals aren't born bad or anything, but I guess that's how people turn out after countless years of ridicule and hatred toward something they don't understand. You become independent, or shrink into a corner and let them taunt you and win. I...may have a small soft spot for kids, but...no child needs to go through what I did long ago."

We walked on in silence for a while.

In all honesty, I _hated_ kids. I could keep telling myself that I did, but I guess there was a small tug at my heartstrings every time I saw one. (Besides, I don't think I'd decided to stay quite that long here anyway.)

Mikey, Jill's little son, was a major exception. On cold winter nights, if I ever decided to drop in with hot meals and blankets and the basic Christmas presents, we'd always end up playing in some silly way or another.

But I couldn't bring myself to be around such innocence.

I opened the swinging wooden gate to the corn field and entered without Nails's opinion.

Yep. There were tiny, _tiny_ stalks of corn that looked so forlorn that I almost sympathized. After a moment's consideration, I decided that I did, and shouted at the 'farmers' tending to their ground.

"Yo," I called, waving them over. They all glanced at each other in confusion, but came over anyway with their primitive tools. Basically, all of them looked like long wooden poles that really looked like the fire-hardened spears that Nails had used in the hunt that morning. With their knowledge, they probably were. Truthfully, I had only been to so many places in my lifetime, enough to know the basics of how tings worked. I'd only kept one garden in my life, so I only hoped that what I was doing was at least close to accurate.

"Okay," I said, gathering them around me.

"What are you doing now?" hissed Nails, exasperated.

"Since you're not helping me anymore, I'm doing things my way," I said, smirking. Turning to my group, I addressed them with as much command as I could. I couldn't believe how much this was like laying out the plan for the old gangs back home.

"Now, your Chief Quanahi has asked me to help you out of your famine," I said, taking one of those long poles and leaning upon it idly.

"And I have to admit, the crop looks very poor."

Everyone murmured and nodded their heads in agreement.

"What would you have us do?" asked a cocky one, speaking up. I blinked as Nails nearly bit his nose off with _"How dare you speak out of turn to the Hadouin Lord -"_

"I'll tell you," I said, cutting him off before he could start a riot. Pointing at the tiny, brown corn, I said, "I'm going to teach you how to do it right. Your soil is packed down too hard, you have no irrigation trenches, you don't turn the soil, you don't replant them and rotate them, and most of all, you don't watch them with the right tools."

Everyone stared. Even Nails's eyebrows were raised.

"Do you have any paper?" I asked him. He nodded and reached towards these barrels stacked against the fence. They were full - or an eighth full - of corn kernels, staff tools, and long rolls of heavy paper that reminded my strongly of vellum. ("For the rain," he told me later.)

I took the paper and spread it out on the ground. Nails handed me a clay jar of ink and a crude paintbrush and quill from his pocket (Wow, who would have thought). I sectioned off every invention and idea - and showed these bumpkins how to do it.

---------------

**Denduron (continued)**

Two, uneventful days passed by, in which the only eventful things that happened were the improvement of the crops, immensely; the Milago land had always been regarded as important only to glaze, but it turned out that the minerals in the soil made the land incredibly fertile and easy to grow crops. When you learn how, of course. It was amazing how much one could accomplish when you get down to it.

I was used to manual labor, but only gave help where it was needed. I felt like I'd invented the hoe for the first time, which actually made me laugh - the hoe, reinvented on another world. _The_ hoe. Haha.

Hoes, rakes, plows, wagons, carts, shovels, irrigation, and more had been invented, again, by me. I, who was always considered a hopeless juvenile on Second Earth, was actually doing something a little more useful than being an urban Robin Hood.

These villagers were hauling barrels of food to their houses and to trade with their allies, with big, happy grins plastered on their primitive faces. I had to admit, I was feeling pretty good about myself at this point. Accomplishment, and seeing others prosper other than myself -

Yeah right. I had a job to do, and I'd also found that Nails had left out an important piece of information, that just had to come up on another job of mine.

I was supposed to escort a large amount of food to the Kelta tribe that was apparently on their side.

"Kelta?" I'd asked Nails on the night when our over-sized cat adventure of the day was over. (Now, from here is just what I wrote as soon as it got interesting. This was my opportunity to barrage him with the questions that I wanted answered, so this is what I found out.)

"Yes. It is perhaps the largest tribe, like one of your Second Earth cities. It's...perhaps not as big, but it is an impressive sight."

And as I later learned, it was, but first as always, I had to hear the bad news.

As we reclined in our little hut on those soft and good-smelling animal furs, I asked the question that made Nails let me have it.

"I know there has to be a reason more than helping these people that I am here for," I said, examining the sword in my hands and staring up at the ceiling. "Why am I here, huh? It can't be to fight some war."

There were so many questions that I wanted answered since I'd gotten here, and even then, that was barely half of it. What about Jill, did she know that we were gone? Did she know that this was going to happen? Who else was in on this? What was Nails's place here in this world? What was my place? What did "Hadouin" mean? What was going on?

"I perhaps should have told you sooner," he said, making me start. So there was more?

"We Travelers use the flumes to get from one territory to the next in order to save its Turning Point. Each territory has several turning points, the critical time where the people's decision will either lead them toward peace and prosperity or chaos. This is what we call Halla, the border between peace and chaos; every one, every thing, and every time there ever was. That's what we're protecting."

"From what though? Don't tell me that we have to save people who make dumb choices for nothing; if they want their world to end, let them have it."

"We're protecting Halla from a Traveler that went bad," said Nails, and in the small enclosure of the room, I could almost feel his face darken.

"Went bad?"

"Yeah. This is how it was explained to me - he wants nothing more than the destruction of every territory. The more territories that fall, the stronger he gets, and the closer he comes to ruling Halla. If Halla falls, there will be nothing but darkness."

Now, that was a major amp on the creep scale.

"His name is Saint Dane," he finished, also staring up at the ceiling.

And don't know what happened then. It felt like a spark had clicked in my head. Saint Dane. Why did that name sound so familiar?

"...What does he look like?"

"No one's for certain. I've never seen him in his true form, but he shape-shifts and indirectly influences people to make the wrong choices." Nails rolled over onto his stomach and crossed his arms under his chin. "I only found out that I was a Traveler about a few months ago, when my father died. The other Travelers from the other territories told me everything else."

He showed me the ring on his finger. It looked like one of those old Gaelic thingies with the silver, scripted band and big grey stone at the top. Definitely no wedding or engagement ring.

"What is that?"

"This is like a miniature flume," he said. "The journals that you write will be the only thing that people have to remember you or know what you have done when you become a Traveler. That, and a memory."

"You mean I don't have a criminal record anymore?" I practically screeched. "That is awesome!"

"Do you have anyone back home that you trust above all else with your biography?" he asked, and my happiness quickly dissipated.

The truth was, I didn't. Jill didn't keep anything completely safe; if she didn't spend something, she used it to make a fire and warm the station. No. I really didn't have anyone but me. My girlfriend had been burned to a crisp, which served her right, and I really didn't know anyone to send it to at all.

"No," I finally answered, and turned on my side, my back to him, to further examine this sword. It was mostly for show, with a decorative handle studded with glaze, and short. The blade was like very strong flint, though, and I figured that it would definitely get the job done.

After a few moments of long silence, I asked, "Where are the other Travelers?"

"They're in Kelta's permanent camp site. It's the major trade area, the center of our World." he chuckled quietly. "I was born there, you know. I look more like a Milago than one of them, and that's how come I've gotten along so well with everyone here."

"Ah," I said. Apparently, the tribes didn't like their half-breeds either.

"And my mom is staying in there as well. Her place is huge and rich and - oh, you've got to see it."

Nails actually sounded excited. Well, at least he was looking forward to this trip more than I. As the night wore on, my mind was alive with an explosion of theories and possibilities.

Saint Dane, I mouthed, trying the name on my lips. The strangest feeling. Not liking the name, and not hating it either.

...Saint Dane.

"What does "hadouin" mean?"

"That's the term that we use for the Quigs here. I guess since you've learned to listen that it wouldn't translate for you, but then, I'm not going to pretend to know how that works."

"Don't play that - you knew ever since you sent me to talk to Quanahi. Anyway, that cat, or whatever it was - the beasts that chased you this morning - called me that." I gave him the best translation that I could to explain.

However, he did not seem surprised that I could talk with them, but actually more thoughtful. The look in his eyes told me that something had been confirmed to him.

"He was talking about...hm, how to explain this..." he turned over onto his back with his arms behind his head and searched the ceiling for answers. "In the culture of every tribe here on this territory...or at least, that we know of...we have out myths and legends and magical 'beasties'. We have a Balance (somewhere), we have unwritten rules, we have a ...complex."

That was a big word that I couldn't imagine coming from one of these people's mouths, namely Nails's. But then, if I hadn't known he was really from here, but back home and all, I guess it wouldn't have sounded so strange. Once again, he was expressing his automatic brilliance that separated him from the others.

"Go on," I urged. Maybe I was finally getting to the bottom of things.

"A Food Chain, if you must. As far as the legends go, the bigger animals, the predators and symbolic beasts that you'll see carved into some of our dwellings and items, all tell of gods and goddesses, demons and demonesses, so on and so forth, but in the form of humans. At the time, and maybe even now, it was considered that the strongest in particle-power would take the forms of humans and walk among us."

"...Explain 'particle-power' and 'taking human shapes."

"'Particle-power', or as we the people call it, 'hsid' (sheed), is basic energy that is drawn from every living thing in this world. As far as the people here know, it is only something that special humans and the other animals can feed off of, but to the Travelers all around, it is the energy that keeps everything in check. It powers the flumes, it creates our worlds, it even harnesses our souls to our bodies."

I whistled low. Nails nodded in agreement.

"It is said that they took the form of humans because at one point, when they were all-powerful and walked the lands as Lords, they took pity on our race and also great curiosity. In composition, humans can harness just about anything you throw at them - disease, mutations, intelligence, etc. It seemed that we had a natural ability to be...avatars, channelers, however you might call it, for this energy, though none other than special ones of our kind could even part-way control it."

"So then, why human forms?"

"Curiosity. It seemed that humans were actually somewhat useful when it came to dexterity and solving problems, not to mention multiplication. They were perfect matches for breeding with those of higher hsid concentration, in which the offspring could be used as batteries in order to power the world more forcefully. Although, many people had a problem with this, the beasts as well; they didn't like the half-breeds. They could mix up the race and create a new one that was never meant to exist. For the sake of keeping the natural Balance, the beasts wanted them destroyed. But the humans simply didn't want what they could not understand. To be half and half meant only toleration, but not acceptance."

I understood that. But if what Nails was saying was true...

"So they took on human forms for their abilities?" I interjected. "That makes them shape-shifters, right?"

"Yes and no," replied Nails. "They took them on for their abilities, yes, but they are not shape-shifters so much that they are...'hsid-shifters'. They focus and mold the energy however they want to suit their needs. But it didn't last. The reason why the Ninjhu, the 'cats' that chased us today, don't interfere with the Hadouin, is because for one thing, the Hadouin are not of this world, they're Quigs, and the other animals know that quite well while the humans still don't notice; for another, they have far more importance. Hadouin may not be bright, no offense to you, but they do have a weakness for humans besides satisfying their ravenous hunger. At least here, anyway."

"Oh?" I said, quirking a brow. I had to hear this.

"If you've ever heard of the Legend of Soahr, which I highly doubt, then you'd understand perfectly, but long story short: Hadouin can absorb the energy much faster and more effectively than any other creature. If humans are filled with it, then they can go ahead and absorb that to. There was one such as you, almost, a powerful Hadouin that took on the form of a human because of his Hsid level, and had fallen for a woman. No, she wasn't human, but she took on the form of one. It was the first that he'd seen, and so followed ever since."

I didn't press that. So far, what I'd gathered was that I was part-Quig, okay. But that made me part-human, too. Humans are emotion-filled wrecks that don't deserve to live, but then it would explain why I sometimes feel...at all. Whereas Quigs, according to Nails, were very rare in feeling anything like that. It was apparently curiosity that got them to curl up with the warm bodies in the first place.

I could understand the Chief's request now. All tribes, all humans, lust for power. If these special humans - which I guessed had to be priests or something - could harness the hsid, that meant that they'd have plenty of little batteries to win the war.

The war. That was probably why Quanahi had asked in the first place. He was testing me, to see if I'd change my mind.

"How many are in a single Hadouin offspring-whatsits?" I asked.

"From one to eight in a litter, one almost always dies."

Yep. He'd been testing me the whole time.

"Where do they live?"

"In the Hsid Mountains," he said. "It should translate as 'Sacred Mountains', but then, only the special humans, the Priests, get to go there anyway, and that's only on certain slopes. They own a small pass up there that takes you to the other end towards the Michi and Fargandwa villages. We were on one of the mountains when we stepped out of the Flume, remember?"

"Ah," I said, thinking. "So then, they just guard the flumes?"

"Yes. Quigs are a mystery to us. Apparently, Saint Dane controls them."

I caught my breath. Him again, huh?

I decided to stop asking questions for the moment. I'd be back later, when I could process all of this. But even when Nails had gone to sleep and I was still partially awake, my mind was alive with the questions and answers and the possibilities.

It would not die quietly.

-----

As for those two days, the only interesting thing that happened there was that I had to dodge the girls, help with the farming when I felt like it, and tour the village some more. (Not to mention help pack up the caravan going to Kelta. Keeping my promise, I would at least go and follow along to there in order to be closer to the highest point of hsid concentration, which was where the Priests of Kelta went to replenish their powers. This was also a favorite gathering spot for all sorts of nasty beasties, hadouin included, so I was certain that this would be a great excuse to tag along, if only to go and find the answers up there myself. Truth was, Quanahi _said_ that he just wanted me to meet our ally, but that was really just a cover for telling me to not forget to talk to them, too. At least he had the presence of mind to be more decent in the way he reclined.)

It seemed as though these people were always rebuilding or building their homes. After the "ninjhu", those cats, and learning that there were bigger, scarier things out there than them (not to mention far larger), I actually felt a touch of respect for them for being so persistent. They may be off in more than one way in the world that they were trying to fit in to, but I had to give them credit for at least trying.

Little did I know, though, that the world that we were talking about was huge, and contained far, far larger things than anything I had ever stopped to imagine.

So I'll skip ahead past these uneventful two days to tell you.

----

I don't know how long I slept. Once again, I found myself in the position of my face in the crook of my arm and my eyes sealed by sleep. I arched my stomach and spine upwards in a graceful, and exhilarating stretch that had me popping like a zombie or firecracker, then rolled over and pushed myself up on my elbows so that I could stretch my neck.

Rolling my head around like that gave me a line of sight out my only open eye to realize that Nails was not here, probably already up and running. That was fine, since he left breakfast behind on those cool wooden platters.

I had some privacy to do some exercises without looking like a moron, and after fifty push-ups, thirty sit-ups and another stretch or two, I jumped up and used the bathroom.

Can you believe my days always started this way. Strange, but effective.

I hurried out of there. If I thought the skins stank, then the latrine really drowned it out. Smelled like some poor walrus had swallowed a Russian Thunderbolt in cherry flavor (if they had it back then) and used the thing. Igh.

I tidied up the place a little (and sealed the door tight on that latrine, gross) and folded the jumbled furs, then sat down and had breakfast.

They had these funny little strips of meat that reminded me of thick, juicy bacon with a lot of flavor, delicious porridge with honey and fruits in it (I'm guessing they did have a sweetener like sugar) and mint tea, again with the honey sweetener.

It was all very good. I had no idea if Nails had eaten or not, since there was only one platter and he hadn't touched it, but beggars can't be choosers - at least not all the time - so I went and ate it anyway.

I adjusted my clothes, pushed my hair onto my back so it wouldn't get in the way, and pulled back the door flap to start on my next adventure. Today was the day we left for Kelta.

Nails was waiting for me at what looked like a stable and corral of sorts, full of horses. Two of them, an all black one standing next to what I guessed was a pinto, stood side by side with a caravan of mules and pack horses behind them, loaded up and ready to go.

He was holding the reins of the two lead horses and lead them over to me, smiling.

Truthfully, I've never ridden a horse before, but it looked like an easy thing to do.

"You do know how to ride, right?" he said.

"No."

Good thing it was early morning. Not a lot of people were out to see my crash course lesson.

I stepped up onto what looked like a mounting block and threw my leg over the black horse's back. My first attempt had me slide right off the other side; the second attempt made me misjudge the distance in frustration and had my face collide with the horse's flank; and the third time, I missed.

Nails was looking at me with suppressed laughter. His shoulders were shaking, and he looked like he was trying to hold in a tank of air.

"Eh, shut it, Nails," I snarled. I ignored his help and the mounting block entirely and mounted my own way, by clawing (carefully) up the rear and dropping into the saddle. I gave the reins a tug and wheeled the horse around towards the entrance, and exhaled slowly. I knew this was only my daily pessimism, and it wasn't the horse I was mad at. I patted the poor thing's neck affectionately, and it gave a small wicker of forgiveness.

"Are you okay?" Nails snickered.

"Don't start with me," I grumbled, and gestured for him to lead the way.

We set our horses into a trot until we'd made it into the main street, and a few people were already waiting for us, to jump on and protect the caravan with their own horses and spears and bows and arrows.

"Today I go to the Kelta's area, then I go and talk to the Quigs?" I whispered. Nails nodded. "Sure seems that way."

"Then, I guess I'll just have to sit this one out, huh."

"Yep."

I looked around. The suns were just rising...weird how that's plural...and it looked like it would be a clear, sunny day. Absolutely beautiful, and just right for traveling.

Then I saw something that made me rethink that last mental statement.

Flooding out of the chief's hut was his harem, all of them carrying baskets of flowers and chatting and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls, but I knew better. If there's anything I've ever learned from harems, it's that no one gets along all that well. Girls are very competitive beings at just about everything, so when people talk about gender wars, neither side really has a say in it.

The leader of them, I think the oldest, bowed low. All of the other girls followed suit, immediately shutting up and dropping to their knees.

The lead girl looked up.

"Chief Quanahi sends his blessings," she said humbly, bowing again. All at once, the girls stood up and dumped their flower petals on us.

Talk about smelling ripe. I felt like I'd just walked into the women's cologne and perfume department. A wall of scent hit me, and it was all I could do not to fall off the horse again.

The lead girl went to rejoin her rivals, and another stepped up. Looked to be around my age, say fifteen or so, with blue eyes and black, wispy hair that came to the small of her back. She was a blushy little thing, short and looking fabulous.

I looked at Nails out of the corner of my eye and saw that his mouth was open slightly. What a dork.

"It is Chief Quanahi's wish that you take at least one as your servant, to do as you wish. She is employed from Kelta, and can sate your desires as well as be a good tour guide," said the girl who had just left.

The girl looked up at me with her intense blue eyes and smiled with such innocence that I almost retched on the spot. She smelled nice, too, but I'm not for certain since that blast of flower power had my eyes running and nose stinging, as well as vise versa. She walked over to my horse and mounted behind me.

Whereas most guys would freeze at the touch of something so beautiful, I did my best to ignore her, but it was hard to put off those slender, creamy arms wrapped tight around your waist and the feel of a small and warm body upon your back. I could feel her soft breath on the back of my ear, and inwardly shuddered. Too bad she was still a virgin. Too bad I was too(sort of). This would have been fun.

Nails was glaring at me with a touch of envy, and, just to make him mad, I gave him my best bad boy smirk and kicked my horse forward into a trot again.

The people who'd come to see us on our way waved us off with big, happy grins and more flower petals from the harem. At the moment, I had too much on my mind to really pay anything any attention because of several things: a girl at my disposal that was dead sexy and innocent; Nails trying to drill through my head with his eyes; my senses were seriously clogged by powerful petals; and, most of all, there weren't exactly proper saddles on this thing, and without underwear too, there would be no chance of me even dreaming about taking the girl on my back at all.

Too ease the discomfort, I sat up a little straighter and tried to bounce along with it like I'd seen on television, but eventually had to slow to a walk so I could readjust.

"How you coming over there?" Nails asked. I knew he was teasing me and enjoying the pleasure of seeing me in pain like this.

"Just f-fine," I seethed, turning my head so that I wouldn't have to look at his imbecilic smirk.

"You sure? You look a little incapable-"

"Shut the hell up and keep riding," I growled, and moved the horse into a canter. This would speed the whole caravan up some and perhaps provide a better ride from these crap-assed saddles.

"People must know how to ride without butt or balls here," I grumbled under my breath, but Nails was still grinning, as if he'd heard me.

Feh. The scenery was far more important.

But I eventually ignored that too. Why was I agreeing to go to see the Quigs? I wasn't going to tell them to lay off, because they were the main predators. It was their land.

But according to what Nails had told me that night about the territory, quigs, and me that he knew of, I could now confirm the decision that I made to sign on to this trip, if only as an excuse to find the answers to all of my questions. Sure, there were many that had been answered then, but hardly a dent to the ones that were filling up to take their place. I had followed Nails without question because I wanted a thrill, but now I was questioning myself along the lines of whether it was really something more that made me follow him so blindly, to what may have been my death or ultimately getting in trouble.

I only knew what he told me. Not once, except for that night, had he really told me much more of everything; I'd had to figure it out myself and probably still had to. Instead of thrill, curiosity and this overwhelming need to know is compelling me.

What he'd said had made me think about the more personal questions that I'd wanted answered. Where did I come from? Who were my parents? What was I here for? Why was I here at all?

(Would I be almost or completely sterile after this ride was over or would I just jump off and take my chances walking?)

But, most importantly of all, who was "Saint Dane", what did "hadouin" really mean, and why did I have the strangest feeling whenever that name was mentioned?

--------

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed Remmson's village adventures . There'll be more to come soon, but if you want it, you have to leave a review (and for you people out there who just read and don't review at all, you know who you are- submit one and give me self-esteem points, please!) and I will put up a chapter as soon as possible. Thank you so much for reading, and chapter three will soon follow...depending on how many reviews you leave...bwehehehehe.**

**Muse: Bring 'em on!**

**Remmson: YEAH! **


	3. Road Trip

**Chapter Three: Road Trip (also entitled, The Legend of Soahr)  
**

**Preview: _Remmson and the caravan go to Kelta City and listen to the Legend of Soahr, and an old friend enters the plot and discovers strange occurrences. New word alerts, new information to tie up a few ends before really diving in, and a very sore Remmson.  
_**

**_...And more.  
_**

**A/N: Gah! I'm sorry for being out for so long -**

**Muse: (snickers) Got grounded -  
**

**Me: Bah! Anyway, just so you know, I did not spend that time lazing about! (mostly...) I have created a little bit of an idea here: after this chapter, a marathon - the _HYBRID ACR Four-Course Special_! (insert fanfare music here)  
**

** Muse: This will consist of four brand new, long, action-packed chapters hot off the shelf and maybe some stuff on .deviantart dot com. if we're lucky...but don't expect colored in pics, if so. We, ah...lack the technology. (sweatdrops)  
**

**Me: The date of the _HACRFC Special_ is unknown for now, but trust me, you'll know when it's here...(evil cackle)**

---

**To: **

**Fire, anon, (my first reviewer):** _Wow, what a long review! It actually cut itself off! As to your questions, though, I have to say that one of the top fifty that me and my good crew back here asked about the main character was "Is Remmson a virgin?" _

_Unfortunately, WE can't tell you that until later, but there is one person in the story that can - I think you know who the lovable badass is - and he delights in not telling. Don't forget, he did say, "sort of". _

_The mystery of who Josh is will be answered, I'm happy to say, in this chapter here. Thank you for the great (and long) review! You're so cool! (note: Remmson's hair will not always be black, but that's a spoiler...)_

_Muse: xD_

**Trav0: **_Well, I'm glad that he made you laugh - it means that I'm doing my job. As for joining Fire's RFC as Vice President, well..._

_Remmson: NO. (looks scandalized) I wouldn't mind having fans and all, but still...pro-life crises, you know..._

_Muse: D'awww. (pats him on the shoulder carefully) Cheer up, fans will draw pictures for you! And you'll, like, be sexeh!_

_Remmson: YEAH!_

**Catalyst Roses (my first member reviewer): **_Once, __a very wise person -_

_Muse: (AHEM)_

_Me: ...Yes...anyway, you never know until you try, luv. This section in Pendragon needs more writers anyways, and you never know - it could turn out to be the best story on the net. If you do write one, however, be sure that I'll be a constant reviewer and always support wotever it turns out to be!_

**Paine Akuri: **_AH! EXPLODYNESS!!!!!!_

_-- _

**Me**_: Thanks for the reviews, everyone, they are incredibly appreciated!_

**Muse**_: Hooray!_

**Remmson**_: Can I go home now? I have things to do, people to kill...things to destroy...y'know?_

**Me**_: Ah, but you CAN do that!_

**Remmson**_: ...Really?_

**Me**_: Yes...in the **HACRFC SPECIAL**!!!! Don't miss it, everyone!_

**Muse and Remmson**_: YAY! _

------ **Denduron (continued)**

Eventually giving up with the horse, I detached the girl's arms and more or less slid off the other side and hopped on one leg until I could get the other free, then began to walk. The girl, asleep, just slumped over the horse with no problem. I snorted and began to stretch, then walk comfortably on foot in silence, arms folded across my chest. I noticed Nails give me a look that resembled a creepy glee, but I ignored him.

"So, who are the other Travelers? Where are they from?"

"They are Re Xyan, Azhra, and Kroma from the territories of Cloral, Zadaa, and Eelong."

"Whazzah huh-wot?"

Nails chuckled. "You'll see when we get there. They are, as I said, staying at my mother's estate."

Something else bugged me. "Hey...why are they there if the flume is just above the Milago village?"

"Because, in a race against time to retrieve you first, it came down to a probability of if you would appear in a flume or in a 'drome'."

(Ooh, ooh. New word alert.) I had to ask.

"What's a drome?"

"A drome, or 'fall', as far as I know, is like a flume, but more commonly known as a 'fall' because unlike flumes, they are like a pit in the ground instead of a wall.. It was assumed that you would be more 'human' and go through a flume instead, and, since Travelers only found falls by sheer dumb luck (not good because that means you'd have to either fall in or something would be coming out) or when they appeared, I decided to ensure the flume option by bringing you myself."

"But what are falls for?"

"That I know of, I've only seen one work once before, but the others that have, at least as many times, have always reported a Quig coming through. I'm sorry, Remmson," he said, shaking his head, "but there are only so many answers to the questions that I can give you that I actually know about."

"Hey, it's cool," I said. "But how _do_ you know about all of this?"

He gave a mysterious smile. "I had a good mentor...my father, who was a Traveler before me." He suddenly stopped talking, and I cocked my head to the side, but said nothing more. Humans feel a rather harsh barrage of emotions when they've lost a loved one. I guessed that this was one of those times. 

However, I couldn't have him go all emotional on me either. It might make me sick, so I quickly changed the subject. Thankfully, he actually caught on and didn't wallow.

"Tell me about the Legend of Soahr," I said.

He seemed more than happy to comply.

----------

**Second Earth**

**A/N: The mysterious Josh's entrance.  
**  
Josh Kraven - or 'Raven', to the clan - walked down the sidewalks of New York City with his hands jammed in his pockets and shades covering his eyes. It was a cloudy day, but bright, with not a patch of blue in the sky to be seen. The wind nipped at his skin, but he paid it no attention.

He was searching for someone.

Almost a month after Remmson had gone missing, he was still searching. Naturally, their clan of mercenaries, Infinite, had looked as well, but had eventually come to a stop.

It was not unusual for people to go missing off of the streets. If the person wasn't back within a week or two, then they were automatically assumed deceased.

However, these usual rules did not seem to apply to their leader. On occasion, he'd go missing for weeks on end, the longest several years, but had always returned, never empty-handed.

So Infinite went on with their lives and were currently throwing a week-long party for the death of "Rem's bitch and her lover". Josh would have joined in, but figured that he had enough time. He was more like his best friend, stoic and silent, and didn't like large crowds. Though there were thirty-two of them all told from the original eighty over time, that being only the truly elite that had survived, it still felt like a lot of people.

Josh had dark brown hair with darker tips, arranged in no real sort of order; his eyes were a very light brown, a human version of Remmson's, and his nails long and tough, again in comparison to his best friend. As well as body structure, he too was slightly scrawny and underfed, but with a height of at least average three inches shorter than Remmson's.

After hanging around with him since they were kids, he had, over time, begun to look like him. But that was only on the outside.

As for the inside, he was every bit as cold-blooded and powerful; if the two of them were pitted in a race against each other, they'd probably match speed; an eating contest, they'd probably match how much mass could be consumed; in strategy, it would be difficult to tell who was the sharper edge.

This is nigh impossible for a human.

There was a little more than a mystery swirling around the group that no one had really given a thought to before because of their adventurous lives, but only part of it would be as to why they resembled their leader in the areas concerning the more intense eyes, longer nails and teeth, and the ability to keep up with him if he was at mid-pace.

Why were they the elite, indeed...?

But Josh neither wondered nor cared. He was content with being by the group's side, forever if he could.

But lately, things had begun to change. He'd felt the affects in the air when he'd woken up on the day that Remmson had left out to go and see _that woman_ - and not only did he know, he felt it in his bones. Something was going to change their way drastically.

And to his horror, he'd been right. It was not, once again, unusual for Remmson to go missing, but this time felt different. Even some of the clan were a little worried.

Lace, the younger sister of the only woman that Remmson had ever truly loved, hung around the streets and corners, keeping an eye out for his return. She was a little girl hardly over nine that had seen far more than any child should ever see, and the gang respected her, not only because of her relationship with Remmson, but also because of the way she handled the situations and was still able to smile. Possibly the youngest member, she'd stuck around from day one and saw them as the only family she had.

But this was a new development. She usually didn't go anywhere out of their territorial area without Remmson or him, and now that she was straying a little out of their borders, almost into the Bronx, was a little disturbing to him.

He'd make sure to warn her next time, but even now, as he walked along, he could see her on the chain-link fence overlooking a vacant lot, staring ahead and out into space, not really concentrating. It seemed that she too had all but given up looking for him.

Josh stopped by her and waited for her to see him. She did, eventually, and immediately dropped down to the ground. "Mister Raven, sir," she said, standing up straight and smiling. "I didn't know you were there."

Josh only rolled his eyes behind the shade lenses and asked, "What were you doing?"

Lace's smile faltered, and a frown crossed her face. "I was waiting for Rem...but he's not coming, is he."

Josh felt his heart skip a beat, but ignored it. He looked out over the lot that she'd been staring at and did not reply.

Lace hardly came up to Remmson's hip, and had stormy gray eyes. Her hair was short, like her sister's, a mess of beige and brown that stuck up all over the place. Her skin was very pale, though not as pale as the leader's, and she had to be the skinniest person that Josh had ever seen next to another member (Amadeus) from lack of food and living conditions.

However, she was still surprisingly healthy after all the running, walking, jumping, dancing, and basic happiness that she expressed every day in order to keep up with the rest of the group.

But she wasn't happy now. In a life where sitting or standing still was unheard of for her, she had now come to a stop. The dress that she was wearing was dusty, marring it from its original white color, but it was all right; Lace never liked it anyway. Josh wondered if Remmson's absence affected her more than him.

Of course, she'd always cry whenever he had to leave. _"Come back for me, okay?"_ she'd say, tears streaming from her eyes. It was rare for her to cry at all, and yet she somehow always managed it whenever he or Rem were about to leave.

And yet it seemed that even she had felt the difference.

Josh sighed. "Go back to HQ, Lace."

"But I want to look for Rem..."

"I know. But please...go back there."

"I don't want to," Lace said, turning her eyes to the ground. "They're having a party back there, and there'll be only Dwight or Kitty to talk to. I want to go with you."

Josh almost laughed aloud. He knew what she meant. Kitty would keep you talking for hours on end just about hair styles; Dwight came in command right after Josh, and the higher the rank, the more dangerous you were.

Unlike Remmson, Josh was merciful; unlike Josh, Dwight was outright brutal.

Since Lace apparently wasn't afraid of the Infinite or anyone with a weapon, she had taken a bit of a liking to the bastard because he had pretty hair...but was incredibly uptight. Not so much that he was twitchy, but he could snap someone into submission at a moment's notice.

In other words, both of them were pretty creepy.

Kitty would only want to talk about uninteresting things, Dwight would only want to talk about ways to kill or say "hm", "ah", or "uh-huh", "I see", etc.

"Well...I know - go see if Devon needs help with his technology. Pull him out of the party if you need to. He's on a deadline, after all."

He looked up at the bright sky. "And besides, you can't come with me. I want to go alone."

Lace's eyes brightened only a little, but she nodded and skipped off. Josh made sure that she turned the corner without trouble, then resumed walking. She understood much more than he gave her credit for.

He honestly didn't know where he was going. It was only when he'd been so absorbed in his thinking, in which his fantasizing had him wishing that he'd been there to see the bitch that turned on his best friend burn with plenty of screaming that he noticed where he was standing. It was the park, one of his and Remmson's favorite places to hang out.

Picking a bench, he flopped down on it and chewed on the end of a cigarette absently.

It wasn't like he was addicted, and he was somewhat surprised - he and the group were somehow completely clean of any addictions at all, drugs included. Josh could sit there and chain-smoke for two hours and probably never do it again for years, if not forever.

After a while, he got bored, and lay down to look up at the sky.

It was very bright. The wind blew the leaves around the grounds and poked him with its needles of cold, but he only closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.

_"There is something bigger out there for us, you know," said Remmson one evening in the park. "It may just be a guy thing, but I can feel it. One day, we'll be more than just street kids out here."_

_"Hm. What would we be?"_

_"Well, for one thing, I'd never join the 'civilized world'. Their way of life is too perfect. If I had a chance between living there and living on the streets, I'd take the streets any day. They can live their lies all they want."_

_"I've never thought of it that way before. I've always imagined how kings and queens live, you know, with huge beds and clean sheets that must smell so good, and full meals that would keep you fed for years on end -"_

_"-Yeah, and lots of money."_

_"Lots and lots of it."_

_"That wouldn't be too bad. You'd have to be a crime lord or something for that, though."_

_"Hehe. I'll only be one if you will."_

_"Then it's decided, partner."_

The days that they had imagined living their own lives out here, just them against the world, before they'd become the leaders of an elite group that lived the way it pleased.

Josh realized how far they'd come. They'd refused the food and big beds because they had found something better than all of that - a family to rely on.

They were, in no way, related through blood; but all of them had a mutual understanding that brought them all together, all a common enemy, a common cause - survival.

He fell asleep.

---

When Josh awoke again, it was pitch dark out, and only the street lamps cast their light here and there. Unlike all the other times that he'd been here at night, he felt a difference in the area. He strained his ears, but heard nothing more than a few amorous couples on the lawn, nighttime animals, a homeless guy scrounging in a trashcan, and the vehicles surrounding. Though, the strange feeling that he was being watched remained.

Josh saw his breath on the air and looked up. There were no stars tonight, and it was a little more than nippy out. He decided to leave and get out of there before he froze to death. Stretching, he stood up and yawned.

He stopped in mid-yawn.

There was something else out there, another human, perhaps. Automatically, his hand went behind him to grasp the handle of the automatic in his back pocket.

"Quit skulking around," he called. "Who's out there?"

(Unlike Remmson, he lacked the ability of night-vision.)

But, there was no reply. The only other sound were the trees swaying in the wind, the leaves scratching across the pavement and grass.

Feeling a little more than just irately paranoid, Josh headed for the cafe to see if it was open. Still, he kept his hand in his pocket casually, although it was resting upon the gun in case anything nasty happened to try and ambush him.

He made it to the cafe with nothing to report, but as he sat at the table, he had a good view of the warehouse from the window. The remains, with hardly a jagged leftover of the back wall listing to the side and held by the remainder of sturdier beams, but all of it blackened and somehow emanating a dark...light? Shadow? Aura? The police cars were stationed nearby, but the yellow tape that they used to keep pedestrians and wanderers away from the area fluttered lightly in the breeze. People walked by, and then suddenly jogged away; others would just stare and then try to forget.

Josh took a sip of his coffee and stared at it, thinking back to the day that Remmson had left. He'd shirked work just to go and meet this girl, to propose to her. He'd asked where to get the best ring, where was the best spot for this or that - he hadn't seen his best friend smile like that in a long time. After a life of so much torment, actually laughing with happiness and not with wicked thrill over bloodshed was a rare sight indeed.

But what had Josh confused was that even though seeing him happy and more open made him feel better, he could not understand why it also disturbed him.

Did he _want_ the old Remmson back? The one that used to grin and smile at everything, much like Lace did now? Or did he like the one he'd known for the past few years, savage, vicious, unleashed, wild, almost feral, and relished in whatever bloody stunt he pulled?

Josh had to be honest with himself; he was insanely jealous when he'd heard the news of what happened that day. How _dare_ someone break his heart like that! How_ dare _she destroy all that hard work it took to make him a kind and caring leader despite his twisted, murdering ways. _He'd_ been with him since day one, and she'd only stayed for about a month or two. What ever could have made him go to _her_ over the team?

He barely heard the chair in front of him scoot ever so slightly as an employee sat down. He looked up to see a young man around his age, maybe slightly older, with red hair and blue eyes. Josh could do nothing but stare; next to Remmson or Dwight, he had to be -

"So, what are you in for?" grumbled the employee behind his own mug of coffee.

Josh instantly shook himself back to the real world. "Ah," he started, with no comeback ready. "Eh, I needed a break from work."

"Hm," said the employee, glancing up at the clock. "At...nine-forty PM?"

Josh shrugged. "I work shifts too, you know."

The employee chuckled humorously and drank from his mug again. "Need a refill?"

Josh examined his coffee. "Definitely."

As the employee refilled the cup, he began to speak. Josh could not fathom what he was talking about; his mind was not there.

This scared him a little, since he usually didn't zone out this hard. The employee's lips were moving, but there was no sound.

There was absolutely _no sound_. And yet, the silence was comforting. He felt himself drifting into a sort of stupor with his eyes open, his mouth moving automatically in response without his control. Whatever he assumed the guy was talking about, it must have been very interesting, because now he was taking in every detail of him.

_This can't be right_, was Josh's vague, sleepy thought. _Am I drunk? I haven't touched any alcohol..._

And then his mind was suddenly brought back into focus. His blurring vision sharpened, as did his other senses, and he realized that the employee was talking about traffic now.

"Yeah, the NYC's traffic is pretty ridiculous," he said, jumping back in.

_What was that?_

He thought he saw a glimmer of disappointment in the stranger's eyes, but hardly for a millisecond before it was replaced by the glow of a delighted face. "I'm stuck here until it clears up a bit; I might just have to walk home tonight."

He stood up and held out his hand. "It was nice meeting you, um..."

Josh grasped his hand without thinking. "Josh. The same to you..."

"I'm Dominick," said the employee sincerely. Josh didn't know what it was when he took the stranger's hand. It was a feeling that the universe had come to a stop, that everything was fine...in a thrilling sort of way. It was impossible to describe. As though something were out of place, but rightly so, that he was the only one in a world stricken dumb.

Dominick left to go back to work. Josh stood there for a few seconds longer before he disappeared around the back of the counter and Employee's Only door, then turned to leave. At least get a breath of fresh air from this stuffy place. Maybe, in the process, he could go back to HQ and assure Lace that he was safe -

- His head snapped up sharply. The television, hanging from the wall over the counter and in the corner, was broadcasting the news. Something about the news had caught his attention. It couldn't have been the warehouse, considering it had been almost a month since it happened, but something told him to look up and take notes.

_"On the fifth of this month came the event of an old warehouse burning to the ground with sadly, only one casualty, a young woman. Forensics, after studying the remains, and witnesses seeing her go in with several other shady-looking people, have identified her as Jessica Northing Howard, a young caucasian woman, 23, working at Garden Poultry and on suspicion and charges of prostitution and drug-dealing..."_

Josh could swear that his heart stopped beating.

It wasn't the last bit of information that shook him (he'd figured that one out himself, after all), but what had been said before. _Only one body? Hers? What about the guy she was with?_

Josh knew for a fact that anyone who jumped from a four story building wouldn't get away without broken legs, and that Remmson knew how to torch buildings. There would be no way that the guy could have escaped, it just couldn't.

The screen showed cameras at the scene. The warehouse was being eaten alive by flames and dense smoke, blackening the walls and caving in the roof in an explosion of ash and plumes of dark gray. A passing bird zipped by the warehouse and off the screen so fast that if he'd blinked, he would have missed it; one side of the warehouse blew out; glass rained down on the heads of the people below - but then, that was ordinary in a fire. Firefighters were arriving on the scene, but there really wasn't much left to save. They doused the smoldering remains with water, but all that was standing was what was outside the window now.

He looked back at the table. He'd forgotten to leave something.

Normally, he'd just walk out without paying a thing, but...he liked Dominick. There was something that he couldn't put his finger on, but it was definitely there. He dug in his pocket and took out a few bills and laid them on the table, then turned again and spied something on the floor.

It was a ring...

Josh picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. A big, clunky thing that looked to be slightly Celtic, with a large silver band and inscriptions he didn't recognize, and a big, black marble stone in the center with blue streaks dancing across its fathomless surface like lightning.

He didn't know quite what it was, but something compelled him to either drop it or put it on. It was important, he knew.

Instead of asking whom it belonged to, he slipped it inside of his jacket's breast pocket and passed off the situation with the excuse/reasoning that he could probably pawn it or something on his rounds.

He left the cafe.

------------

**Denduron (continued)**

"As the Priests and Storytellers have told us, the Legend of Soahr goes like this: a very long time ago, there used to be - think of the complex - the most powerful beasts roaming the world. One such, the most powerful of all, was a Hadouin, a fearsome warlord so terrifying that the humans gave him a name. As you can see, the animals here don't have specific identifications like we do, at least, not the way we do exactly. He was probably known by another name, but we, the humans, all gave him the name 'Sasuroya Xohukahnn'."

"Sasuroya Xohukahnn?" I repeated.

Wow, tongue twister.

"It means, roughly, the deepest red of the battlefield sunset, and the moon at its closest, most golden point during the midwinter in the mountain peaks. He was named this because of his expertise in spilling human blood. As tall as the mountains, teeth and claws like swords, he would send messengers down into the villages and demand payment of women and children to satisfy him and his immense tribe. He was named after that phase of the moon because of his eyes, piercing the soul and penetrating the mind, as the moon does at that time."

I had to interject at this point. "Why is it always women and children?"

"Hm?"

"In the stories back home, I've noticed that women and children sacrifices are always given to a powerful great beast or something." I could tell that Nails was only repeating it the way that he had been told, and I had to give another point to the Milago for being good storytellers.

"Women and children to sate their lust, as well as breed, sometimes, but most of the time to devour," he said, as though it were obvious.

If he was as big as Nails described, and as powerful, I could not imagine any human being used like that by a beast whose dick was probably as big as the freakin' Empire State Building. Honestly, where was the fun in that?

I told Nails so, and he nodded thoughtfully. Dork.

I'd noticed that the rest of the caravan were now listening in intently to the story. The servant girl was still out cold. I guess being in a full-time harem could make anyone tired.

"Well, that was what the village heads had always proposed, and so far, it worked. However, the people began to become outraged; why should we give up our women and children for such a beast? Why couldn't he just battle his neighbors?

"And the truth was, there would be no point in doing so. Humans were the main vessels of harnessing power and energy. They were but batteries. But naturally, they didn't know that. They did not know that this Hadouin protected them from the much more demanding beasts that wanted to devour them entirely, whereas he only came down every few years.

"So the humans went out to battle them and slay Sasuroya. It was not a wise move. All of the human villages sent out their men and warriors to bring back the heads of the Hadouin and use them for trophies. Other traveling bands of rogue soldiers were also called in for the riches. The other animals made way for them and the Hadouin; they could pick off the battlefield later. The two forces clashed, but for some reason, the leader was not there. The humans only ran into the 'welcoming committee', I think you call it."

I nodded, showing that I was following.

"Well, what no one knew wast that Sasuroya had two sons of at least half of his vast power. They were Sasuroya Xohukahnn II, and Sasuroya Ruhaxehn."

(FYI: "Xohukahnn" is pronouced, "SHO yuh kah nn". "Ruhaxehn" is pronounced, "RU yuh shey n".)

"The two apparently got along amazingly well for savage brothers, and Ruhaxehn always looked up to Xohukahnn. When you came into the village, Remmson," he said to me, "You looked just like him, almost, in human appearance. Your markings are slightly different, though, as he had more, as well as hair the color of the moon's reflection on fresh snow."

His metaphors and similes were astoundingly annoying, but appreciated, nonetheless.

"Sasuroya was close to death after battling a force of somewhat stronger beasts coming through the mountain pass. He'd won, but in being torn to pieces, he was lying down and preparing to pass his powers onto the eldest of his sons. He may not have been bright or a great father, but he still followed the laws of nature here. As he passed, Xohukahnn obtained his energy...as well as his blood lust."

I heard the others in the caravan that were listening gulp. This sounded like the good part.

"Xohukahnn found the humans on his mountains and attacked. No one saw him coming in human form, but he did so, and attacked with a ferocity so like his father's that as the sun went down, the snow on the front of the mountain could be seen from the level ground below as a waterfall of blood and gore from human carcasses, streaming in small rivers down the mountain face. That night, he became the leader, and led his clan through many more battles against the humans.

"But, it was only one small victory. Thus began the annihilation of the human race that opposed him and dared to come to his mountain. The other beasts thanked him for being so generous and leaving them easier food and energy after the battles, and he let them take what they wanted. These were his mountains, he and his brother reigned, yet all was out of balance. The more that the humans kept dying, the more that the balance became upset. Not hurting them was out of the question, but every time, Xohukahnn hoped that they would realize their mistakes and stop attacking."

We rode on.

"A mountain sprite had found the last tribe of surviving humans in the mountains and led them to a safe place, away from the Hadouin, to grow and live in peace. She took on the guise of a human and became the protectress. Throughout all of those years, she helped the humans, studied them, and overall almost forgot that she was something else. Unlike most of the beasts, she showed her emotions openly, had an open heart, and was a determined woman indeed. Beautiful as the scenery that surrounds us now, her smile would brighten the darkest skies, her eyes soften the coldest heart.

"The mountain sprite's name was Soahr, given to her by the humans. It means 'gentle spirit that moves mountains'. During the battling, she had gone to see what the commotion was about, and found that in one of the last battles, a Hadouin had been injured and had floated downriver to wash up upon the shore. She took pity on him, but was amazed at his determined nature to live. Cut to pieces as he was, he refused to let go of life. He snarled at her, being blind with wrath; but then became suddenly placid, as though the vision of her calmed everything in the area. Soahr was brave, and let him trust her enough to support him and nurse him back to health. The river had taken him from his territorial space and into her own.

"A beast's wounds heal quickly. It didn't take any more than a day or two at best to get him back on his feet, but within those two days, Xohukahnn had learned something about himself. It was a conscience, and a side that he never knew existed until he met the kind protectress. He decided to stay one more day, and then another, and then another, and a week, and another week, and finally a month, until the two were close friends. She let him see the village, though knowing the risk - but she trusted him not to sell them out. Xohukahnn's opinion on humans began to waver. He liked the children and the humans' art and music; he loved how some of them sang. It was a new world that he knew he had to share with his own people."

I cocked my head to the side. He actually found something worth staying for in the human village? Had he lost his mind at some point?

"But a month turned into several, and soon into a full year, and Xohukahnn showed no intention of going back to his own people. He had temporarily forgotten about them, for when he was here with the peaceful people, major contrasts to the ones below the mountains, he was truly happy. But during the year, he had gained something else...a heart. Xohukahnn had actually fallen in love with Soahr."

"No way," I said, jaw dropping. "What do you mean? As in, just a crush, or seriously _in love?!_"

(Don't ask me why I find these tales so intriguing. I hate long stories, but I guess it's a traditional thing for the tribes - Nails - to be able to tell it very well. Like I said, another point for the primitive idiots.)

Nails laughed. "From reference to the recordings of books and other people, and the forest itself, it may have started out as a crush, but no, they were 'serious', as you put it. On moonlit nights, the two would disappear into the mountain darkness and often not return until midday or the next evening." 

I blinked. "Hadouin can mate with mountain sprites?"

Nails nodded. "Almost anything in order to share hsid, though it is mainly Hadouin that do so (it's obvious to see why). Anyway, the two were more than just close, but as usual, humans got a little bit too cocky and did something that pretty much ruined the whole 'happily ever after relationship'. The head of the village that Soahr was protecting wanted to marry her. In doing this, he could ensure that she'd stay with them instead of leaving with Xohukahnn to the higher altitudes, thus keeping the village safe and letting her stay be permanent."

"Ugh," I said, shuddering. "They thought that she was still human?"

Nails nodded. "Otherwise, he never would have requested such a thing. But you know Soahr, risk everything for that village...but before she could tell her lover the whole thing, the head of the village cornered her in the woods. It seemed that she'd been around humans a little too long...she couldn't change back, nor hurt him, because he was her charge to protect. In short, Xohukahnn saw them together and scared the village leader, and he fled, but he didn't say anything to Soahr. Instead, he went back to the depths of the forest.

"His younger brother, convinced that Xohukahnn was either dead or just injured somewhere, became the temporary leader of the Hadouin, and went looking for him. He eventually left the mountain and came upon another, and found Soahr's village. He had not ordered an attack, but his tribe was hungry from the constant fighting and numbers that were declining. They attacked it anyway and then turned against Ruhexehn, and he might have died where he stood had Xohukahnn not come and take over again. When he'd found what they'd done, he sent them back to the mountain with the promise of a punishment in store. He heard Soahr coming his way and told Ruhexehn to run, also.

"Soahr saw the destruction and the only one in the area, Xohukahnn. They fought, an awful battle that raged for hours. Xohukahnn would not hurt her, but only got her once on the neck. After seeing that she would not receive any help from him, he made up his mind and ran for it. Soahr returned to rebuild the village, and cremated the dead; she married the village leader and had a half-human son, Seign. We think that at one point, she must have told him about the story, because he vowed revenge on Xohukahnn and any Hadouin that he came across."

Another man in the caravan snorted, and we looked over at him. He proceeded to tell his part without consent, and I got to thinking that maybe there was more to this legend than first met the eye considering their similarity and added parts.

"Many decades back," he began, and I rolled my eyes, "there was a Hadouin that ruled all others. When he and the humans began to wage war against each other, he was like the father of all things predatory. The people were fighting for their land and out of revenge, since they did not accept the balance of this world, and thought that it should be they who ruled. So, this Hadouin gave them a punishment that would last for a hundred years - paying tribute by sending the village children and women to him. Always, they'd take the path adjacent to what we are on -" and he pointed to where a path must have been in the undergrowth that even I couldn't see "-and go up there, never to be seen again.

"So, the people rebelled again, and hosted another war, but this time, with absolutely no honor. In war, you are not supposed to hurt the people. They rushed up that trail, armed to the teeth. They needed their descendants to work the land and protect the others, and because of the constant threats of other beasts, had to keep moving farther and farther away onto the plains, away from a river source. They'd finally had enough. But this Hadouin didn't like that, and so, to solve everyone's problems, he showed them how his last punishment was so lenient. He slaughtered two thirds of the world's people that had turned on him without mercy, and only one human stood in his way."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"The greatest warrior of the Era, Seign. Everyone said that he was born of Mount Soahr, the tallest mountain in those parts. Soahr was the name of the woman who died protecting the villages from the predatory rule, giving up her powers as a Sprite to save the mortals that she had shared her life with. So naturally, he had the inherited powers to battle this Hadouin. They both fought for a full night and only stopped to lick their wounds every few hours, and didn't stop until night had fallen on the second day. He and Seign's fighting had reshaped the landscape, with the Hadouin's claws raking huge gashes into the ground. The chasms that we're crossing now are those gashes when he summoned all of his strength to deliver the killing blow to the mountain Sprite. This attack caused the ground to open up, and the main river to fill between the cliffs of the abysses, creating a whole new river and falls. Seign scored him back just as deeply, and sent him back into the mountain next to Soahr, that is said to be the birthplace of all Hadouin. After that, he was never heard from again, and Seign disappeared, supposedly back the untouchable peak of Soahr."

"So you mean that these ravines, all of this incredible scenery, was made by this beast's claws?" I asked, stunned. I looked around. Some of these chasms had waterfalls as big as the Victoria Falls slamming down into the darkness, with huge clouds of mist and steam and rainbows that looked like bridges themselves. Far below, I could see a tiny thread of blue that I supposed was the river tributary. These streams must run under the ground from there. Looking up, I could see what appeared to be a line behind me to the right, that was really an immense cliff with a cascading river jumping over the edge. Strange enough, the river was deceptively calm.

Nails nodded in confirmation, and a low whistle of impression escaped my lips. That had to be some battle. This wasn't something that you saw every day.

"You say that this beast wanted the women and children," I said again to the man, hoping for a validating answer. "What for?"

"I do not know. Since the disappearance and everything, the story was then classified as a legend that we have no real way of knowing was real. There are several formations of land and other strange phenomenons, like these score marks and the rivers, that tell a story of their own, despite the tales. In other words, this could be a completely made up part of the legend, just to make the beast sound evil and intimidating."

"Indeed," I agreed. "If the beast had claws that big, then it must have been way too huge to fuck any human women or children." I knew that was quite harsh of me, but it was true. It was always the innocents that received the sore ass. Besides, why human women and children? Not much fun there, and I knew Nails agreed with my silent speculation.

Nails snorted gently. He got it.

"It seems that the very foundation of all of the humans in the hierarchy are afraid of rape and death, you notice?" he mused, voicing part of my thoughts aloud. I nodded.

"Not quite hard to figure out why though, huh? That's all you people seem to do - fuck, kill, and die."

It might have been unfair to compare these people to the ones back home, but what I've been seeing, of why everyone looked to everyone else in fear, of having kids in your harem and not caring as long as you got what you wanted out of them, of thinking that it was unfair for the predators, the real rulers, to be picking you off and then wondering why, fit right into the category of every human that I could recall.

The very humans that had made my life so hellish and encased my heart with a rather tough layer of arctic ice. I could never forgive them, and so had no remorse about wiping everyone out.

But...

"That's very true. It seems that even though we are only just dawning, we still have a ways to go."

Hn.

He definitely had a point there that made me almost rethink my opinion on them.

But not quite.

Nails told me the ending as we stopped for a bit for lunch. "So Xohukahnn was sealed inside of the mountain by a band of priests and escorts that went to validate the truth of Seign's story. I say 'sealed', which means that his hsid level was slowed to a continuous pace, a loop. He cannot move, nor wake up. But that's just the legend," he added, looking over at the listening men in the caravan. Did he not want them to know the truth?

Wait. Was this legend actually real, then? Or were these people superstitious as well?

"Seign just supposedly disappeared, though he did have descendants, and one, an almost full-blooded warrior, is actually in Kelta as we speak, serving as the King's adviser. He's Hekate Seign."

(FYI: Hey kuh tey sane)

I resolved to ask this person questions when I met him, adviser or not, but then Nails leaned into my ear and whispered something else.

"Technically, it is impossible to be a direct descendant considering that the first was sealed as well, most likely from fatigue. Soahr had eventually died and her ashes buried within the mountain. It is rumored that he may have gone back there, but either way, it cannot be true. He has not been seen for generations, centuries. However, the resemblance is almost so accurate that he could be a reincarnation. Doubtful, yes, but still; there are some deliberate mistakes that stand out and show that he's possibly still partially human."

_Saint Dane_, a tiny voice whispered in my head, but I couldn't be sure.

We broke out lunch. Since the servant girl was looking so awake and pretty, I told her to switch places with me. She wasn't overly-thrilled, but I was, and after only one embarrassing attempt to get on the horse's back, I sat cross-legged on the bumpy animal and let her walk beside the horse. I wasn't cutting her any slack for the caution of her being a constant distraction. If she really was good at everything, as the Chief had stated before, she should be good at walking as well.

Lunch consisted of water, this funny kind of jerky, and your basic fruits and berries. The jerky was chewy and flavorful, sort of...for pieces of leather. Nevertheless, it sure tasted good to me as it went down. The water was cold and clear from the springs that we passed by, and held in a canteen made from a gourd. I passed it to the servant girl, and she finally stopped frowning and took it gratefully.

The mules and horses and a few cattle were all given crude buckets of water and allowed to graze a bit while the other men checked the supplies and sat down on the side of the path to share their food. Naturally, I chose a nearby tree and sat up there in the shade, the green leaves casting funny shadows across the bark and my skin.

I gnawed on the leather piece determinedly, snapping off lengths of it and battling it in my molars, and thought about what Nails had said. He'd mentioned that I looked a bit like Xohukahnn. If that were so, who was he really? Wasn't he native to Denduron or...wherever Quigs come from? This was too confusing.

I decided not to dwell on it until later, when I could ask all the questions I wanted. Until then, it was time to just stay down and see how things turned out. But my thoughts kept shifting to the characters of Nails's story.

_Soahr. _She must have been one brave woman.

_Xohukahnn. _He must have been one persistent bastard to literally reshape the landscape. I found myself wondering what he was like: whatever compelled him to fall for the girl in the first place, besides her body? Was she really peaceful and kind?

Being as I am, I could not possibly conceive of such a person existing unless they were a nun or something - and even then, they were pretty mean also. But to give up everything for a lost cause...

Maybe...

-----

In twenty minutes, we were back on the path and riding into more trees. I swear that I'd seen enough of them to last me a lifetime now.

But -

_Whoa_, I thought. _What was that?_

Sticking up above the trees had to be the largest tiered pyramid thing that I'd ever seen. And that was about accurate, because when I found the permanent city of Kelta, it looked like something out of my history book. Tenochtitlan, intergalactic style.

And this place was nothing but colors. Though it may have been stone, as we parted through the trees on the path and came to see it for what it really was, this place had to be rainbow city.

The walls around this thing were as tall as - well - a dam or something. These things were huge and white with blue and yellow borders, and a main gate that looked like it was made completely out of red tree trunks.

Not only that, but instead of one wall, there were - here it comes - _five_. All of them clustered around a city the size of Chicago, with tall towers, short towers, squat towers, towering towers - all made of stone and wood, painted white and blue and yellow and just about every other color. Banners blazed, plant-life hung about the place like a garden or rainforest with vines snaking up the inner walls of the city, and the ground tiled granite or marble.

To get through these walls, you had to make it past these guards that looked pretty formidable with their darker skin, grass kilts, spears, and flint swords and/or daggers at their sides. We wouldn't like to be on the wrong side of these guys; unlike the Milago, they were tall and stoic, with dark brown eyes that studied us closely.

They decided we were legit - though they'd never seen me before - because any idiot could tell that this was a caravan full of food and supplies for them. A horn was sounded, and the gates began to open.

We passed through each wall and gate, about ten feet apart with portcullises that rose every time we got near. When we finally made it inside, I had to hand it to these people - they knew how to construct an environmentally friendly city.

Their fashion was a little off, though, but who was I to talk? This fur that I was wearing would probably make me millions back home, but whereas I wore skins, they wore anything that came to hand. Grass, leaves, feathers, a few skins here and there, cotton, _silk_ even, unbelievable. Everyone walked this way and that, going about their own business, trading with the vendors and merchants like us, or going to pray at miniature shrines. The smell of woodsmoke and delicious, cooking food, of spices and maybe even curry, filled the warm air and began to clear my burning nose and eyes. This was a good environment, full of great smells and air.

We entered in, and I followed Nails's lead to the side of a tall temple.

Around this temple...was the bazaar.

Paved streets, colorful tents, steppes even; it looked a little bit like Bangkok back home where they'd cook up just about everything and sell it. This was where we'd drop off the caravan, and I had to admit, it was incredible. There were weird things hanging from racks and poles and cords that were edible, and others that were entire silks being dyed and some billowing dry in the breeze. Nails decided to give me a tour, and I noticed how certain people nodded and welcomed him warmly, as though he were returning home from a long trip.

Which, in fact, he was.

We passed by stalls of things that I probably wouldn't even lick let alone eat, but he urged me to try a little bit of everything. (larvae, grasshoppers, crickets, snails, rodents, the delicacies, etc.) Strangely enough, I actually found some that I really liked. They had this one where it looked like a very pale, slimy organ but dripping delicious cooked juices, and it was actually a mouse or poultry dumpling with seasonings. They came in all sizes, and so Nails had to pick up a basket for us so that I could stock it full.

We had helped the caravan unload its supplies into the waiting arms of the reception and parked the beasts at a post. Nails had told the girl to go off and find his mother's house and alert everyone there of their arrival. She left without a response, ducking between the crowded streets of commoners and even a kid herding sheep across. I tried another delicacy, ninjhu 'dairy products' - milk, cream, delicious cheese that I couldn't get enough of...it tasted strangely similar to our back home, but far more vivid in taste.

Nails began randomly picking things out in case I got hungry later. There was a fruit that I bit into and never wanted to try again because the outer layer was like rotting fish, but the inside like strawberries...but filled with nothing but seeds. I was still spitting them out like gun shells when we came upon the next sector of the marketplace, where I saw 'taxis' using what resembled rickshaws to cart people back and forth, and the temples and vegetation rising above the colorfulness. The sound of wooden and hide drums being beaten, flutes and clacking wood chimes filled the air in their own different array of songs to attract customers, and some groups of people were bidding and betting, like at an auction, for slaves or livestock upon a pedestal. I was munching on the inside of a bird's leg bone, like Nails had shown me to extract the healthy marrow inside, when we turned again and looked at a sword smith's shop.

He had a great big forge, probably made from rock and most likely a permanent placement. I could not imagine carrying that whole set with me, vendor or not. The guy had a red and orange, decorated tent over a sturdy wooden frame with the rock forge behind it, and at least ten chimneys coming out of the top and sides in every direction. These belched smoke from the "bellows" within, but what caught my eye was the myriad of twinkling lights, like before I stepped into the flume. These were made by the dozens of sharp weaponry hanging from the shelves and hooks, the sun gleaming off of their blades. I would have thought it was a butcher's shop if not for the lack of blood and gristle. Shapes of weapons that not even I had dreamed of hung from there lazily, showing off to be sold to the highest bidder.

The smithy's assistant asked if I would like to be fitted out with one, and I decided that I did want to see what was better than this useless thing at my hip. Nails encouraged me, so I let the guy measure me, take his notes, and finally select one already on the shelf. I held it delicately to find the balance, and saw that this style of sword had no real hilt, but was just a blade encased in a solid wood handle and wrapped in a leather grip. It sounds pretty primitive, but it was single-edged, like a machete, and actually looked very sleek for its time. The blade was bolted down well into the handle by iron screws, I guessed, so this wouldn't become loose anytime soon. The blade was steel, but when I touched it, I had to be careful in case I shattered it.

Nails and I tried out the various weapons, and I found out something else new about myself: my weapon preference here would most likely be the sword. I was thinking a double-edged dagger, or something for close-in work because that was my specialty. Nails told me that even so, what would I do if I did not have claws or fangs? Truthfully, the question startled me. What would I do, indeed?

We moved on past a stand full of colorful, bright birds of paradise, past a stand with just as bright and colorful exotic flowers, and on to a sort of courtyard where a traveling act was putting on a show. Kids were lining up with these funny little dolls in their hands, their spotted puppies barking happily at their heels, to see them better. Some children sat on their parents shoulders and chewed on some tasty treat, and cheered crazily when the lead performer blew paper birds into the crowd. Nails and I watched the performers juggle strange flaming pins and twirl metal hoops, do acrobatics and create illusions that must have looked like magic to the crowd of children. Nails hefted one of them onto his shoulders so that he could see better, and I glared at the rest that dared to stare up at me expectantly, as if anticipating for me to do the same.

We left the act after seeing them conjure two beautiful ninjhu out of nowhere and leading them about with glorious, multi-colored flags that floated on their own accord. I reached in our basket for another morsel and got a handful of larvae. I snapped them down happily and shared them with Nails.

"In two weeks," he said as we walked along (me carrying the basket, of course) "the prince's coronation will be held. The priests and Warriors are to go up into the mountains and kill a prize beast and eat it, but only Royalty and Champions get the large, best portions."

"'Prize beast'?" I echoed between a mouthful of fish and their eggs.

Nails nodded in confirmation. "They can be anywhere from giant, flying lizards to hadouin."

This caught my attention, and I swallowed the mouthful to reach for a small, steaming hen carcass and bit into it with gusto. People ate quigs? Since when did they get so bold? I thought it was the other way around!

I examined our food's inventory and saw that we had eggs (turtle, chicken, fish), snakes, larvae, fish, pork roasts and ribs, something like shrimp, and the odd veggie/fruit/berry bunch (that was gratefully not that icky one I bit into earlier). I could have sworn that we'd had more in here. Nails told me that we did at one point, and that it was all in my stomach.

We were turning for the temples, so that he could point them all out to me and sate my curiosity, when we were stopped by two servants, much like our own but darker and looking like they could do more than look pretty. Nails greeted them, and they bowed low.

"These are our escorts to my mother's house," he explained as he led the way.

"Oh? Then why didn't you take me yourself?"

"I'd have to explain who you were. They really didn't have to come, but now the other Travelers there know that you're here."

Ah, right, the other Travelers. I'd forgotten about them. I figured that I had nothing to fear, considering that I was the foremost and only partially human - which meant that the regular rules did not apply to me and I could carry them our without being an idiot. But still, the thought of meeting others...others that were alive and special in some way -

-Not like I was looking for people like me all my life, though. I mean, misery loves company, but the thought was still kind of unusual considering I didn't have it much, a'ight.

But we made the trip of following them around the twisting and busy traffic of the plaza and up to a set of stone stairs that I hadn't even noticed because of all the plants. These were flanked by two tall guards in grass skirts that even I didn't want to tangle with, but they let us pass, though without batting an eyelid.

Whatever.

The stairs would go up ten steps, turn on a pedestal, and go up another set of ten in a zigzag pattern until I was starting to get bored with the whole thing and considered jumping back down the rest of the way (to get more tasty treats from the bazaar) when we eventually broke through the tall plants and found a vast...lawn.

It may not have been huge in another perspective, square as it was, but ...wow. In the middle of it sat a small palace, a mansion of wood, stone, and plant-life. It was shaped a bit like a bunch of very squat tiered pyramids on a rather incredible stone foundation. There were guards lining the path up, and in the four sections of the yard were small pools and fountains.

But what made it so unusual to me, besides all of the birds that came to fly about on the lawn, was all the sheep and cattle. They just walked around with the chatting servants, eating a little here, leaving a little behind there, and basically...chillin'.

I immediately decided that I liked the Keltan architecture much better than the Milago.

Nails suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the house. He was running, and smiling, because his mother was just ahead. At first, I considered dubbing him a mama's boy, but then again, he probably hadn't seen her in a while. Humans are very emotional when separated from the ones they care for for long amounts of time.

We passed the guards, went up the last stupid set of stairs (lined with leaves, too, I noticed) and walked in through the great, wooden doors and into the house itself.

----

It was a fairly large room, like a dining room in a mansion. But the only thing was...it was practically outside.

There was no roof, but a few curtains of beads and cloth hanging from other apertures told me that not all of the rooms were like this.

But this was...wow, how to explain it. The space where we walked was nothing but soft, springy flowers of pink and white, with a blossoming tree above us that smelled terrific, the breeze blowing its petals down from the twisted branches like snow. As I looked around, I noticed that we were not alone.

The two servants had left hurriedly on whatever errand, but there were three other people sitting down by the paved pond, waiting for us. I walked over slightly cautiously, and continued to stand when Nails sat down with them and began greeting them warmly, and they in return. I was not interested in their conversation; I was too busy admiring the clarity of the pond. Huge goldfish of speckled color were floating around lazily beneath its surface, vibrant dragonflies loafing around the cattails, butterflies alighting on the moss-covered rocks, and waterlilies anchored to the surface completing the look.

Nails and the others continued to chat happily, and I guess they finally noticed that I was there, because he turned around and said, "This is him."

Whatever that meant. I supposed that he'd told them a lot about me...which was strange, considering that we'd only just met a few days ago.

-"These are the Travelers from Zadaa, Cloral, and Eelong," said Nails.

These three people that he indicated seemed to be relaxing in the grass upon a quilted picnic mat that seemed to be made up of nothing but blossoms. There were three other servants, dressed simply in what looked like long red loincloths tied off with silver and gold chains. Their arms and legs were wrapped in some sort of red silk, with bare feet and the cloth going between their fingers and over the backs of their hands like gloves or guards. Since the three of them were women, I expected them to have some sort of shirts. I was mistaken. Like those Egyptian chest guards, these girls had nothing but a ring, a flat plate of grass over the tops of their breasts, meaning that there was a lot to see. Their long black hair was braided and held back by multicolored ties.

In other words, these girls were not only rich servants, they were hot servants. It looked like they had peaches and cream yogurt trapped under their skin, but with nice tans and well oiled. They were much healthier looking than the whores back home. These three were sitting on their hips with their legs together, perfectly balanced, and setting down large platters full of fruit, vegetables, berries, and steaming meat, as well as delicacies and drinks.

The Travelers all looked up at us and smiled, and I instantly started taking quick notes.

One of them had dark skin and eyes, but a solid frame. He was dressed in furs that showed a lot of skin and muscle, almost the same outfit that Quanahi was wearing, except no fur mantle. Instead, it was like a very short, sleeveless jacket over a sash around the top of his chest and lined with fur and a hood. His hair was black and long, and while short on the top, was long and braided underneath and tied in a leather strap. A stick weapon was strapped to his back, like a sword, and I was sure that it would be quite something to deal with if it was used against me.

The second one was surprising. He had light grey hair that came to his shoulders, but was incredibly young. He was wearing almost the same leather and furs as the other one, but they were black and silky, which made me think that they were from some sort of cat, possible a ninjhu. He looked almost like me, with long fingernails and lithe build, but unlike me, he was more...catlike. Around his neck was a pendant of some sort that had a carved face that was half human and half goblin or something. Strange. On his back was a sword, like mine, (but with a longer hilt) and he had lamp-like eyes.

_Just like a cat._

The last one was a girl, and I had to admit that she looked the best out of those servants as well. She looked like she was Asian, with long silky black hair that draped over her shoulders. She was dressed like one of those Indian princesses, with a light blue silk skirt tied off with a gentle green sash, and above her bare midriff, a white silk shirt that also showed a lot of skin and physique. This girl may have looked gentle and loving with her big, almond shaped, brown eyes and virginal body, but I knew better. Never trust women, those scheming little witches...her hands had beaded bracelets, like mine, as well as the cloth guards on her arms, hands, and legs. Her weapon was also a sword, but a quiver packed with arrows was at her hip, and a bow sat in the grass next to her, as well as a cane lying next to it. Goodness knew what that was, but I was receiving some seriously bad vibes, and avoided any threats towards her, just in case.

I made eye contact with her briefly, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle. The look in her eyes told me one very important thing: warning. Do not mess with this chick. Feeling slightly wary, I stood there with my arms folded across my chest and waited, though for what, I wasn't sure. Maybe my next life.

Grey-hair looked up at me and smiled, and I noted that he had a mouth full of fangs too. I'd have to ask Nails again.

"I'm Kroma," he said, and bared his teeth slightly at me. I blinked in surprise that he knew that I knew the gesture, and quickly responded, snapping out of my stiffness and inclining my head, baring my teeth as well.

"Won't you sit down with us?" came the deep bass of the dark-skinned warrior, raising his hand palm-up towards the sky to me, as though asking for money. I took note of the different traditions and cultures that I was running into this morning and went along with it anyway, though at first, I didn't move. It was rare that anyone invited me into their circle without it being for business or without something nasty in mind.  
-  
But I did, and sat myself between him and Kroma in order to stay away from the female. She gave me the creeps, like, Valkyrie-scary. The dark warrior grinned and almost blinded me with these dazzling white teeth. If it had been nighttime, I swear that I could have seen it from a mile away, without night-vision.

"I am Azhra," he said, and gestured to the girl. I looked at her, and her eyes narrowed. I bristled again.

"Re Xyan," she replied, and her voice surprised me. It made me think of a river of honey, but with a definite sting in there somewhere. But, if you ignored that fact, I'd say she'd be very good at singing, a diva, perhaps.

I tried out each of their names on my tongue and decided that they were all right. Xyan's was especially fun to pronounce, though. It sounded like, "Ray Shien", and for some reason, I could not fathom why I kept playing the sound of her name over and over again in my head.

Nails smiled encouragingly at me, and I bobbed my eyes to show that he had my attention.

"Everyone, this is Remmson. You know who he is."

They did?

Even Xyan put on a sort of tight smile. All of them tried out my name as I had done theirs, and I found that I liked the way that the first syllable in my name made that funny feeling on your tongue. It was a strange and uncommon name, at that, but still, it was fun to mess with.

Honestly, I didn't know if that was my first or last name; when I'd been asked for a first and last name by the police, I was only able to give them a made up name, "Ten". (I know, it's stupid, but considering that they couldn't tell what race I was, I suppose they took that as me actually telling the truth and wrote it down as such. But yes, Remmson is the only name that I know.)

Everyone greeted me with as much, or almost as much, warmth as they had Nails. I say almost because they didn't hug me or touch me or anything, but merely inclined their heads and smiled. Xyan was about as stiff as I was, with the same expressionless face and caution in her eyes as me. I gave a mental note to myself to engage her in a staring contest later, just to see what would happen.

"So," said Nails, laughing at a joke that Azhra had made and I must have missed, "where's Mother at?" he looked around expectantly as the two servants reappeared and set down some food.

I noticed that the smiles on their faces faltered a little, and even Xyan's eyes softened.

Nails must have sensed that something was wrong, because he looked around at them all with a questioning look, a piece of fruit halfway to his mouth.

"What is it?"

No one answered him.

I checked the others' reactions. They seemed sad about something. What had happened to his mother?

Kroma was the first to speak up. "Nails...her time was here."

Huh?

Nails set down the piece of fruit, and he sat still. Only his hand quivered ever so slightly over it, but his eyes were searching Kroma's and the others for an explanation. As uninteresting as it was, I was intrigued anyway

I cocked my head to the side. Xyan surprised me by reaching over and placing her hand over his, and trying to find his eyes, but to no avail. Nails's eyes had gone blank, as though he weren't seeing the world as it actually was.

Or maybe he was beginning to.

But Nails didn't want her comfort. He retrieved his hand from her grasp, stood up, and left. We were down to four people now, the servants included and making seven. I noticed that they were staring down at the ground, looking about as upset as their master. I raised my eyebrow at Azhra.

"Where's his mom?"

Not subtle, I know, but still. What was going on?

He paused, then said, "These are not our true parents. They have some other connection within this life that we live, and she has gone on to where all of our parents have gone, also - to start their own journey. They are only here to raise us and show us how to survive, and then they move on."

I suppressed a flinch and looked back to the curtain that Nails had disappeared from. "So...she's not coming back?"

No one answered.

"When we got here, the servants told us that the lady of the house was missing. We knew that she had gone on to wherever they go..." Said Xyan, but she didn't look directly at me. I labeled her as a shrew and stared up at the sky.

"Anyway," said Kroma, brushing his light grey hair out of his eyes, "we're here to talk about _you_, Remmson."

Oh?

"Huh?" I said, taken off guard.

"We already know about you, but only from what we have been told. We want to know more, as well as further inform you of what we, you, are to do."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," I said, trying to get a heading. "Elaboration, please?"

"You are here to help us in any way that you can, which means training you in the ways of a Traveler," Xyan snapped, as though it were obvious. "You are to do as we say and take this seriously."

A vein pulsed in my temple. It was time to lay down some ground rules.

"Well, you know what?" I said, baring my teeth at her, "I got a little bit of a problem taking orders from people, especially from a snot-nosed munchkin like you."

"No one told you to take orders from _them_, but us," she said, eyebrow twitching dangerously. I knew that I shouldn't push it, but this was ridiculous. I decided to get to the point.

"I ain't taking orders from you, then, mainly _you_. I don't bend to the will of short whores who think they have a right over me."

"_What_ did you call me?" she said, nostrils flaring and eyes widening angrily. She jumped to her feet, and I snorted and turned my back to her. "You heard me, bitch. I didn't stutter."

I could smell the burning rage within her like a constant storm and smirked to where she couldn't see. "If you were even _half_ the man you pretend to be," she said, hand trembling with fury as she pointed at me, "you would stand here before me and _say it_ _to my face_."

"Guess I'm not fully a human, huh?" I said, scratching the back of my neck idly. "Means that the rule does not apply to me."

"_Worthless beast of burden_," she said dangerously, and though I knew that I shouldn't have let it get to me, my back stiffened. "Forget the human part of you; you are but a wretched animal that exists only for our personal use."

I stood and faced her. Though I was beginning to get my own shade of anger, suppressed by my better judgment and arrogance, I realized that standing close to her felt kind of...fun.

Like a game of chicken - it wasn't safe.

Pulling a half-smirk, I leaned in and gave my opinion. "If I'm just a beast for your own purposes, why don't you just _screw me already_ and quit talking about it?"

Her expression was taking on that of a threatening storm. Almost snarling herself, she bravely leaned in and hissed, "_Who told you to speak, animal?_"

(I want to take this time to point out that Kroma and Azhra were watching this with great interest, and not making the slightest move to stop us. I had to give them credit; I would have done the same thing. However, I would have preferred popcorn.)

I summoned my own bit of courage and leaned in even further to hiss back, "You _just asked_ me to speak, tight-ass."

It was good that I was leaning so far in; she would have had to stand on her tip-toes otherwise. Nevertheless, she tilted her head back as far as she willed it until we were almost nose to nose. "That means, 'don't speak.' I believe you call this 'rhetoric'. But what would a mangy, scrawny, ­_mutt_ know about taking orders, anyway?"

"Who are you calling 'mangy'?" I countered, trying my best to ignore the dog comment. I hate that insult more than any other. (I will explain why later.) I shrugged it off mentally and smirked wider, just to annoy her. "Screw me already."

_"You **will** obey us."_

_"You **will** lay me."_

I didn't know how much longer I could push this. She looked ready to explode at any second.

I didn't have long to wait.

_FWAP!_

There was a very heavy silence._  
_

Now, I've been slapped before, of course, but...it still came as a bit of a surprise. Through my life, I've experienced blows to my mind, body, and soul, but this one was different: it hit me square on the ego. That was _my_ ass that just got handed back to me on a rather steely silver platter.

I could feel that part of my face growing hot with what would probably be a rather spectacular hand-shaped mark, and resolved to observe my reflection later. Xyan's hand was raised again, her face in a grimace of fury, but with barely contained savage delight. She knew that she had won this one.

"So," she said, the triumph making her throat vibrate slightly, "What is it that you people from Second Earth say? _Bite me_?"

(Not if you were the last food source on earth, babe.)

My face was blank for a few seconds, and she knew that I had been owned. Then, a wicked grin split my face so suddenly without me realizing that I almost thought that it would split in two.

I looked down at her with my darkening expression of one who sees victory in sight, just beyond their grasp. She blinked, apparently not expecting this. Hell, to be honest, I wasn't expecting this either, but then, I am only partially human. Maybe I did have the foresight for long enough not to catch on quickly enough, but whatever. I have no real regrets about it.

Considering that we were only a few inches apart, thanks to her daring and pushing, it was a very simple matter to clasp my hands behind my back and lock eyes with her. I wanted her to be distracted. Xyan didn't waver, determined to stare me back into submission, which was what I was doing...or so it seemed. Golden eyes met blue ones, ones that looked to be from the clearest and deepest well of water; cold, refreshing, and yet covered in a thick layer of cracking ice.

I could feel her breath on my face, and I'm sure she could feel mine, too. Slowly, I inched forward, taking advantage of the distraction...

...And swiftly latched my mouth down on her neck._  
_

- No, it was _not_ supposed to be a killing bite. Considering my pent-up rage and humiliation, I would have done so, but I cannot deny my decision-making skills. Let's face it. If you are a beast, why not act like one?

Xyan froze immediately, and for a second, her heart stopped, then began to beat hard. For the moment, only my lips were pressed to the side of her neck, but I let my fangs slide forward a little and run across the rapidly pulsing carotid artery to the junction of her neck and shoulder and whispered loud enough for her to hear, "Be careful what you wish for, love." I pressed a bit on the soft flesh and felt her jump in surprise.

I found myself admiring this part of her. It was like she had a very nice yogurt tan, and she made me think of yogurt in all its sweet and creamy goodness. The vein here was also moving, though at a far more-accelerated rate than if she were not on edge. But then, she seemed _always_ on edge anyway, so I wasn't sure if I saw a way around that.

Was I making her nervous? She didn't reach up to stop me yet.

Though, her skin was warm, and I wondered if I kept running my tongue gently like this, I might taste strawberries and cream.

I unconsciously bit down again, not nearly enough to break the skin, and heard her yip in a mixture of surprise and a confusing tangle of emotions. I was expecting such a reaction; this used to drive Jess crazy, back when we were still -

I pulled away and forced myself to stop thinking. Xyan stood there for a moment, fresh after torture, but being the bastard that I am, I locked eyes with her again. Her own wavered, still trying to reflect the complex storm within, and then gave up and broke contact.

A snort of laughter brought us both back to the real world, and I looked over at Kroma, who was rolling on the ground with laughter; Azhra was fighting a losing battle by trying to stay as though he'd seen and heard nothing, because his shoulders were shaking and his mouth twitching.

I sighed and looked back at Xyan, who still had not moved. I saw that her anger had mostly gone away, and congratulated myself for a job well done.

Not quite sure why, I reached out my hand.

She stared at it blankly, then back to me.

"Hold out your hand," I said. She hesitated, but then reached out hers tentatively. She looked up at me, confused.

"This is how the people of Second Earth greet each other," I explained, and grasped her hand as gently as possible. She jerked at the touch, but this time did not look away. She held eye contact, as well as the grasp, and I felt her anger fade almost entirely. There was still the humiliation and the mark of similar color on her neck in mimicry of the one on my face to get over, but whatever. I knew that this would not be the beginning of a beautiful relationship - quite the opposite, really, but one that I could at least somewhat tolerate and laugh over. Her resentment toward me was alright to deal with, considering I live with a lot of people's bad thoughts about me, but then, this was only the first day.

"So, let's start over with the introductions between us," I said. "I'm Remmson."

"I...I'm Re Xyan," she said.

"Hello, Re."

"...Hello...Rem."

Then, the most amazing thing happened.

She smiled. It was a very small, shy smile, but I could see it in her eyes. Even more amazingly, I could feel myself returning it.

The two of us pulled our hands away, and she sat back down in the grass. I knelt down and reclined on my heels, staring up at the sky as a gust of wind hit from behind and shook the trees of their leaves and blossoms. I still could not get over how clean the air was.

Azhra didn't speak much. "Someone finally took her down a peg," he said under his breath so that only I could hear. Well. Approval is a good thing.

Kroma picked up where Xyan - Re - had left off.

"We're here to speak to you about the ways of the Traveler. We don't know much, but our time is only just beginning. You need training to become one of us and continue in our quest to protect Halla. But you play an even more important role than you think."

I raised an eyebrow in question. Azhra had become his serious self again. "There are others out there, and being a Traveler is mostly trial and error; we go where the wind takes us, where fate decides. We honestly do not know much else other than to stop the one that calls himself Saint Dane and protect Halla from the likes of him."

"Well, if he's a mortal like you, he should die pretty easy, right?" I said, trying to make some headway. But, to my further surprise, Azhra shook his head and said, "Not entirely."

_What?_

"We are capable of death, yes; but as soon as our Traveler powers become awakened, we slow down in the aging factor, at least until our bodies are more capable of taking on abuse. I wish that we could tell you more, Remmson, but...it is not possible to tell what we do not know. However, we can think, and can only give our ideas and opinions. We go headfirst into just about everything with a blindfold."

There was a moment's silence as they let the statement sink in.

I found this to be too suspenseful and laid down on my back. "Tch."

Everyone looked at me.

I pulled another wicked smirk and said, "Sounds like fun. For once, my life will be somewhat interesting."

"This is a serious and dangerous mission, and should be taken as such," said Re, but I waved my hand at her.

"Oh, lighten up," I said cheerfully. "That's the whole point."

"You could die," she persisted.

I snorted. "I can't die."

"You can't decide that."

"...Fine, I _won't_ die."

"How are you certain?"

"I'm not."

"Then how can you say that?"

"Dunno. When do we start?"

"As soon as Nails returns," said Kroma, to keep the peace and prevent another embarrassing argument like the last. "But when we show you how your journey begins, we will each return to our own worlds."

"What?" I said, startled. "You mean, I'll have to do this myself? And what's this about '_bending to our will_'?" I snapped a look at Xyan, but she didn't say anything.

Azhra spoke. "You must go with the help of the Traveler here, and we must go back to our own respective worlds to prevent 'interference'. Each territory has its own destiny, as do you. How do you say, on your Territory - 'three's a crowd'?"

(There were actually more than three of us, but I understood what he meant.)

"As for 'bending to us', you have a choice: Saint Dane always uses his Quigs as his underlings, his servants. A Quig cannot survive without someone to control them. Yet your case is special," Xyan finally spoke up. "You are also half Traveler, and you crave freedom and despise masters."

Could she really blame me? I mean, look at her.

I huffed and let it go - except for one thing. "Do you think that being free would work, then?" I queried, to make sure. "Why can't they survive otherwise?"

"Because, technically, Quigs are merely...no, I cannot tell you. Just know that the master supplies you."

"Wait, wait, with what?" I said, excited that I finally getting somewhere. However, they weren't going to crack that easily, and I got the sneaking suspicion that even they did not know for sure.

Re only shook her head, and Kroma changed the subject. "So, as soon as Nails gets back, we're going to leave back to our own territories and try to find the turning points there. Technically, time doesn't matter, but for the sake of preventing interference, we must leave." He lifted his nose to the air and smiled. "Speaking of which, here he comes now."

I noticed that humans don't do that to detect each other. I was becoming increasingly more convinced that Kroma was not entirely human, but I'd have to ask later. Something was wrong.

I'm not sure how I knew, but I...I could feel it. Something wasn't right.

I lifted my own nose to the air and instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

There was the scent of blood - a lot of it. So much that I nearly gagged. I felt Azhra stiffen beside me at our troubled expressions, but he didn't get to ask because Nails came jogging back with his mother's servants behind him, both sobbing and hearts pounding. Nails himself had wide eyes and disbelief written all over his face.

I stood up and stopped him. "Whoa, what's up? What's going on?"

He did not respond, nor made contact with his eyes. Instead, he stared a hole into the ground at his feet.

The servants were blubbering, and it was clear that I would not be getting an answer out of him anyway. "Hey, what's going on?" I asked them.

One of them spoke up through the tears.

"We found the Lady of the house, sir, and she was - oh, _milady_," she howled, falling to the grass and shedding waterfalls. The other servant hugged her partner and cried with her.

_Enough of this_. I pushed Nails aside and ran back in the direction that he'd come, following the heavy scent.

And boy, was it heavy. It killed me to track like this, but it was the stink of -

I perched on the south end of the roof, looking down into a small garden, and there on the wall was the Lady herself. She was against the wall, quiet, peaceful. Nothing was bothering her, really.

Oh, yeah, except the fact that not only was she surrounded in pools of blood, but she was also deader than the food I'd eaten in the bazaar. Her limbs were staked to the wall by some sort of small dagger, the final blade, a sword, slammed into her chest and forever pinning her there. Her outfit, a long skirt and lots of feathers, was in tatters and lifted up/missing from one side, giving me a rather good view of the once-beautiful woman. It wasn't lust worthy now; her skin was pale and pasty, her lips blue, every muscle sagging.

I'd seen many corpses before, and as used to it as I am, there was just something about the way her eyes, half open and crying bloody tears, seemed to be at peace though they were filmed over and cloudy, lacking any sign of a soul at all. Although her face was horribly mangled by slashing, bloody scars, her whole being in indescribable pain, it was as though she knew...and died _on purpose._

- And if it was one thing that I'd learned in my life, it was that nothing on my home, the earth, nothing that climbed or walked, ran or swam, slimed or oozed, flew or slithered, nothing, _nothing_, wanted to die.

Except for humans.

Mysteries that forever beseech me..._why did she do it? She had guards outside, didn't she?_

Or was she, too, part of a much bigger plot...a much bigger plan...

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there, staring at her lifeless form, no real coherent thoughts circulating through my brain. Perhaps pity? Sadness? Or maybe, the understanding that I received from looking upon her, that this was the way that it was meant to be.

The sound of running footsteps caught my attention and shook me out of my reverie. I turned around and found myself facing a whole team of armed and angry guards.

**A/N: **

**Me: Good grief, it's been a while! Most of my files were erased before I could get this chapter here, but now it is - hooray! Don't forget to leave a review and sit tight for the special!**

**Muse: And, for your further annoyance: As you sit through this story, just for fun, of course, see if you can name all thirty-two of the Infinite.**

**Remmson: Here's a head start for now: Me, Josh, Dwight, Lace, Kitty, Devon, Amadeus...(heehee, I can name 'em all.)  
**

**Muse: (Naturally...) Since asking for the original eighty is somewhat out of the question, we've made it easier - this is the 'Infinite Challenge'!**

**Infinite: (cheers wildly)  
**

**Me: However, things are getting a tad mysterious! Questions of Who, when, why, and how! And what is this weird ring? THE INSANITY!!!!**

**Remmson and Muse: O.O  
**

**Me: ( -.-; nevermind.) This is Tetsuna, over and out! **


	4. The King of Kelta

**Chapter Four: The King of Kelta **

**Preview: _Nails's mother has been discovered murdered, Re and Remmson are on a barely tolerant basis, Azhra and Kroma watch and eat popcorn from the sidelines, and we meet the King, the Prince, and the Adviser. The Adviser has some sort of connection that Remmson cannot place with him, and for Josh on Second Earth, things just keep getting stranger and stranger..._****  
**

**A/N: The beginning of the Special! Hurrah! **

**Remmson: Taking into consideration that Tetsuna will be away from a computer for a month and a few weeks because she is going, in short, to a place so deep within the earth's nucleus that not even telemarketers will reach her for the summer, the special is going to be hard to pull off.**

**Muse: so, we ask you to be patient. Who knows, she might just have a chance and be able to pull off some chapters in time before this week is out.**

**Remmson: Which means more angstiness...**

**Me: More ACTION!**

**Everyone: YAY!**

**Me: And of course, this wouldn't be an Alternate series book without good ol' SD. He'll be appearing a lot in the chapters as we go on, but do not think for a _moment_ that he is, in any way, out of character when it comes to kicking everyone's butt. (Except for his appearance and a little more deviation than usual.)**

**Remmson: Hey, wot'd'ye mean, "everyone's"? I pwn Saint Dane!**

**Muse: I dunno...you're still a ways off from that, Padawan.**

**Remmson: x(  
**

**To:**

** Psychotaku: **_I'm glad that you're enjoying this so far, and I hope that all of you will stick around to see where it goes, and give the OC a chance considering all of my hard work on them. And don't worry, it won't all be warped humor, mathematical lectures, angst, and fillers - the fight scenes will indeed become more bloody, gruesome, serious, but overall downright fun._

**  
**

** (By the way, as for the challenge of naming the Thirty-two members of the Infinite, Remmson's gang - I'll try to give as many hints as possible throughout all four. See if you can spot them all! I'll put in a glossary a little later if the situation calls for it.)**

**-------**

**Second Earth**

"Mr. Raven, sir!" cried Lace happily.

"What are you doing still up?" Josh said, locking the door behind him.

Although it was still at least somewhere around ten o' clock, the party was only just getting started. Lace had wisely decided to keep out of the way in Devon's room as an assistant in case things got rough.

Josh maneuvered his way through the wild dancing and grinding to the hallway entrance next to Lace. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Devon let me help out with his project. Honestly, I don't see what's so cool about it, but he told me to wait and see." She pulled a face similar to Remmson's exasperated expression, and Josh gave a very small smirk at the comparison. Devon squeezed out of the moshing gang with a can of root beer for Lace and a beer for Josh in either hand.

He was rather short, wearing a pair of black overalls and a white T-shirt, both stained with dust and oils; his hair was a shock of blond that poked out in almost every direction, part of it flattened down by a clunky pair of goggles. His eyes were big and brown, and his boots were decorated with paint and chemical splotches. Being ever the rather-emo sort, what with some of his hair falling in front of his face and covering one eye, he merely grunted and pushed the soda into Lace's hands.

Josh folded his glasses, put them in a case in his back pocket, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Not speaking much today, Devon?"

Despite the half-emo appearance, Devon was a talker.

_Or a screamer,_ thought Josh, back to a past occasion. Bottom line was, he had a motorized mouth and a set of lungs that could shame an opera singer.

But now he was strangely silent. At Josh's inquiry, he merely gave him a look so blank that Josh could have graffitied it.

"...Oh, hello, Rave..." he paused, as though forgetting something. "...Sir."

Josh only sighed and didn't hold it against him. Lace gave him a "see what I mean" look over her soda. He took a sip of his own beer, but he wasn't feeling in much of a mood for it. Must have been the coffee.

Devon simply stood there, staring into space. Lace had become very immersed in her soda. Josh just waited in the long silence, though it seemed that all three of them were waiting for something.

Fed up, he waved his hand in front of Devon's face and wondered why he was not surprised when he didn't even flinch.

"Ah, Lace..."

"Yes?"

"I think you should go to bed now. I'd advise that you take Remmson's room."

"Okay," she said, not moving.

There was another long silence in which they continued to stand, discretely waiting.

Josh snapped. "Damn it, Dwight, cut that out!"

"Sorry," came a smooth voice from behind Devon, and the tall Berserker stepped from behind him to join the quiet standing and stroke the traces of a goatee upon his chin.

Dwight was the third tallest next to Josh and Remmson, with messy brown hair, a long and gangly frame, and baggy camo-pants tucked into his boots. A black hoody was emblemed with "West Coast Choppers", but everyone knew that he didn't really have a favorite team or role model, game-wise. His gloved hands went to rest on his hips in his usual cocky manner, and he nodded to Lace before sneering at Josh, "What did I do?"

"Don't give me that," said Josh, fighting hard not to roll his eyes. Dwight always gave him a little cause to worry considering the things that he could do. They were the elite, the top three, and you didn't get there being a mercenary for nothing. Dwight always had a blade on him somewhere, and he had anger issues. His expression was always that of someone half-stoned and thinking that they were right about their pencil being made backwards (when they themselves are actually holding it the wrong way). The only difference was that the lights back there were still on, somewhere. It was a rather creepy effect.

"Let go of Devon, please, and then Lace" - he shot her a significant look - "go to bed."

Dwight sighed and moved his elbow off of Devon's bare arm, and Devon blinked. Lace snorted into her drink, but gave a winning smile to them all.

Dwight looked very pleased with himself, and his mouth twitched at Lace's reaction.

She hurried off into the hallway and up the stairs, leaving the three of them alone at last.

Devon swayed slightly, then got angry. "What was _that_ for?" he fumed, baring his teeth. Josh put a hand on his shoulder. His nerves were being frayed enough today as it was.

"Go back to your room, will you, DiVo? Before the party swallows all of us up."

Devon shrugged and stumped off, giving Dwight a dirty look before he disappeared around the corner.

"Now," said Josh, going into the hallway and turning in the opposite direction, "come with me."

"What do you need?" said Dwight, but he followed anyway.

Josh took him up the stairs and onto the rooftop, then sat down and waited. Dwight followed his lead curiously, sitting behind him back-to-back. "So, what do you need?" he repeated. "Anyone to scare, maim, kill? Blow up, level, destroy?"

"...No...it's this." He carefully picked the ring from his pocket and held it in front of him. "I was going to take it to Lex, but...I thought that maybe you should be able to tell me what it is."

Dwight felt the caution, and his eyes narrowed. He turned to the side so that he could see it better, and reached out carefully to take it.

"...It's a ring."

"I _know_ it's a ring," Josh said, a little irked. "It's just this weird feeling that I'm getting from it. ...What are you doing?"

Dwight was biting down on the band experimentally with the left side of his mouth. He sniffed, put it back in Josh's hand, and said, "Well, whatever it is, it ain't edible."

_Genius,_ Josh thought, suppressing a snort.

"But you're right," he said, getting serious again. (It is rare for him not to be.) "It does feel weird. Get rid of it."

"I considered that," said Josh, poking it with his finger. "I was thinking that maybe we could sell it back to either the original owner or whoever comes to claim it."

"Are you sure it's not something of Soleks's?" said Dwight doubtfully. "It sure looks like the type of crap he'd collect or make up."

Josh shook his head. "No, it doesn't..._feel_...like Lex. It...agh, it's hard to explain."

"Well, here, let me help you decide." Dwight removed it from Josh's hand, stood up, and prepared to launch it into outer-space.

"No, don't do that," said Josh, punching him in the leg. Dwight gave a bemused expression. "Why not? It's making us think too hard."

"Yeah, but...I really think we should hang on to it."

"Whatever." Josh caught it and Dwight turned to leave.

"But hey," he said, before going back inside to the blasting music, "if that thing gives you any trouble, you know what to do. Anyway, come on down later. I'm not a huge party fan, but I really am happy about the bitch burning."

Josh smiled. "We'll see."

Dwight looked up at the stars, almost wistfully, and then left Josh alone on the roof.

------------

Josh came down a little later after trying all possible methods in his head as to what was up with the ring, though he knew it was a lost cause. He didn't dare slip the thing on his finger. Instead, he resolved to lock it in his desk sometime where he could keep an eye on it, and that he'd feel better knowing where it was.

The hallway up here on the top floor of the abandoned apartment building (eighth, excluding the attic) was absolutely dark and quiet. No one lived up here on this floor except for him, Remmson, and Dwight - excluding Lace, since she stayed in Nicole's room on the fifth floor. In fact, as he unlocked the door and walked inside the dim room, there she was on the bed now, seemingly deep in thought.

His eyebrows furrowed at the troubled expression she wore.

"Hey, midget," he said, taking off his jacket and removing the ring, placing it on the bed stand, "why are you still up?"

"Oh," said Lace, looking up. Her stuffed bear, "Yoda", plopped happily to the side. "What were you doing up there for so long?"

_She knew I was on the roof?_ Josh thought.

Lace must have noticed his inquiring brow, because she explained, "I met Dwight in the hallway when I was going to throw away my soda can, and he told me where you were."

Josh almost snorted. He could believe her story - she wasn't exactly lying, especially at her expression when she imagined meeting Dwight along a dark hallway in the first place. But why throw the soda can away all the way down there when there was a trashcan in the bathroom adjacent to this room?

Josh sighed and threw off his shirt, bundled it up with his jacket, and tossed it on the floor. He grabbed a larger Red Sox T-shirt, threw it over his head, then slid off his shoes and sat down next to her. Lace leaned against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. Yoda was once again clasped in her arms, smiling all the way.

"So," he said, laying back on the pillows, "is there anything more to your story?"

Lace shrugged. "I guess so. It's not really important."

"Go ahead."

"...You'll think I'm stupid..."

"Try me."

She took a deep breath. "I went to find you because I - I don't like being alone in here. At least, not without you or Remmson...I missed him, and went to see when you'd be coming back for me. I was afraid...by the way you were acting, that you'd leave, too, because I didn't know where you'd gone..."

_So that's why Dwight told her where he was. _Dwight was not the sort to just state the obvious to anyone. Josh had to give him points for not being the psychotic killer that he appeared to be most of the time. It seemed that he knew a lot more than he let on about.

Lace had looked away, but Josh held her closer to him. "I understand."

She smiled and nestled her head under his chin and sighed.

They sat there in sleepy silence, until Josh's hearing told him that she had fallen asleep. He carefully pulled the blankets out from under her and draped them over her tenderly, then brushed a strand of her bangs from her eyes and lay back, arms folded and eyelids drooping. He glanced at the ring on the bed stand, gave a mental shrug, and turned out the light.

--------

Morning came the next day with him sleeping like the dead with Lace breathing softly against him, still not yet out of dreamland. He stretched subtly, detached her arms from around his neck, and rolled over to look at the clock. The ring was still there, with no major or minor change. The clock read eleven twenty-four.

Yawning, he got up to change his clothes and head out for breakfast, but not without looking in the desk and finding a silver chain that might have once belonged to a necklace. (He and Remmson always used to collect any junk that they could find.) He threaded the end through the ring and clicked it shut around his neck, then left into the streets.

Busy, busy, busy. Rush here, go there, stop and smell the pollution; walk slowly here, walk slowly there, look around for roadkill - a.k.a hot dog stand or something - and hope you have enough on you.

So, thirty minutes later, Josh was on his third hot dog and not feeling any less hungry. His stomach continued to growl and complain with grumbles and emptiness, and it was all he could do to look around for more food. He was out of money, and he cursed his empty pockets and turned down an alleyway, another way into the Infinite territory.

The boundaries of his territory only reached part of the Bronx; as of now, he was officially skirting the boundary by at least a few inches. Others, watching him from the shadows of pre-noon, did not seem to think so. Because Infinite was a very quiet, very secret and deadly group, there hadn't been any real establishments as to where the territory boundary really stood. It was mostly just guess-and-go to outsiders.

Maybe we can't really blame the gang about to mug him, then.

"Hey pretty-boy," a man called. Josh kept walking.

_Shit._

From what he could tell, there were at least ten of them, possibly more, and he didn't have time to figure out why (pertaining to so many at once). At the moment, he was too hungry to fight, and lacked the weapons. Since this was only supposed to be a quick food run, he hadn't thought to take his gun with him. All he had were his fists and...well, his fists.

The ragged men closed in, arms out, smiling. "We won't hurt you or nothin', man, we just want to borrow some change," said the one that called him out, a rather chubby man with a Mets cap and a hand clasping a pipe behind his back. "Are you gonna _comply_?"

The gang snickered.

Josh stopped and narrowed his eyes.

_Sometimes I am just __**so stupid.**_

"What's that pretty necklace, huh?" said Mets suddenly, who had been looking him up and down with a rather nasty, sadistic gleam in his eye. "Hmm, I think your woman would like that, Tom!"

The one called Tom, a bewhiskered man in a stained T-shirt, grinned and said, "The bitch likes anything shiny, makes her no difference. But that looks like a real piece of worth. Where'd you get it?"

"Take it off," commanded Mets, drawing closer.

Josh growled angrily in his head as his hands made to remove the ring, slipping it off the chain and holding it in his hand. Tom smirked. "Give it 'ere, now..."

_Well, I'm sorry to see it go. But at least it serves a purpose, after all._

The rest of the gang had removed the pipes and weapons from behind their backs and brandished them in the hopes of speeding up the process.

Josh outstretched his hand...

_**B-bmmp.**_

_What..._

_**B-bmmp...**_

_What was that?_

Josh took a glance at his fist to see if he'd only imagined it, but then he felt the pulse in his palm and was suddenly in no doubt.

_**B-bmmp,,,,**_

_This thing...it's alive? _he thought incredulously, mind racing. _This has to be a hallucination or something. This has to belong to Lex, somehow -_

Tom was reaching forward to take it from him, but Josh pulled it back instinctively, a plan forming in his mind..

"Don't play," Tom warned, raising the pipe slightly. "I'll break your head in if you don't hand it over right now."

Josh ignored him and made a split decision. He could hang on to the ring and jump out of the alley like Remmson showed him, or stay and fight when he wasn't in the mood and most likely get pummeled. But the way the object began to _feel_...as though it had something different in mind, a better escape that he could only wonder about.

The ring was indeed alive. The stone seemed to be alight with something, anything, _alive_. Without thinking about it further, Josh slid the ring onto his finger on impulse, trusting in what he didn't know, and waited.

Nothing happened.

"See here, I said to HAND IT OVER," said the impatient Tom, getting angry. "GET -"

_CRUNCH._

Josh had seen many things in his life, but of the most bizarre, even he could not stop his eyes from widening for the most unexpected.

A sudden darkness seemed to appear, as when there is a spotlight, this was a spot_dark; _but so insubstantial that it seemed almost transparent, just a dark bit of evaporation. Said _spotdark_ surrounded some manner of beast made of the same thing, but more outline, that reminded Josh of a dog. But no, it was _far_ to big - it had to be the size of a horse, at least!

The ring was pulsing happily now, the colors in the stone swirling, and as Josh watched, more shadows appeared. The first one had leaped with hardly any sound and crushed the man's neck in its powerful jaws. Red splattered the gravel and nearby dumpster as he fell, eyes wide with shock, and the large beast turning to snarl threateningly and sink into a crouch.

There were two others. The men were so stunned at the turn of events that it had not registered in their brains, but when it did, they certainly showed it.

"AAAAAAH!!!" Mets cried, making a break for it. The shadow 'dogs' didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention, but instead went for the ones that were staring in awe.

"What's happened?"

"What's happening?"

"Why's Tom dead, what hit him?"

"You, what did you do?" they all babbled, looking around and pointing to Josh, and Josh realized, with a jolt, that they could not see what he could see...

The dogs began to _twist_ in the air and hit their targets, the throats of about four others of the men, who were just starting to catch on that Josh was not doing this physically. They looked about frantically, swinging their pipes and weapons, their stench of fear heavy to Josh.

_They are blind...?_

But eventually, after two more fell with hardly a sound, they just dropped their weapons and broke back into the open and sunnier areas where the supposed deadly poltergeist could not touch them.

Josh let go of the breath that he did not know he was holding, but suddenly felt compelled to look up. He came face to face with one of the phantoms.

_I guess it's my turn,_ he thought, but it didn't seem that way. Even if it was, he could not find the will to even crouch down in defense. Come what may, the outcome would most likely be eaten alive like the others. He spared a glance at the corpses, but found none; the dogs had gobbled them up and licked away _every_ trace of their existence, except the unidentifiable scent that Josh was trained to pick up. He looked back to the beast in front of him.

The foremost "dog" had stopped to stare at Josh, and he was met with the one thing that, if anyone else had bad eyesight and yet could see what he could, stood out above everything else: huge, glowing, yellow eyes. He felt as though he were staring into Remmson's when he got excited, but knew they were not; the shadow-beast stared into his eyes, and Josh felt as though it were penetrating his very soul.

He stood there, riveted, as though someone were slowly and painlessly driving a drill through his chest and into the darkest corners of his being...

A sudden vibration in his arm caused him to break contact and investigate, and to his horror, he found that the ring was swirling with light...and the light was flowing up his arm like water.

Shaken back to reality, he made an effort to get rid of it.

"Nnh," he grunted, panicking, trying to brush it off with his free hand but it didn't stop, it would not stop, it just kept going and going and covering him with a cold, brilliant blue glove that was starting to reach his elbow...

..._No..._

...And then it stopped. It buzzed, flashed, then disappeared, leaving nothing to denote that it was there.

The ring was back to normal.

The dogs were gone.

_Had I imagined it all_?

Unconsciously, his hand sought his arm where the blue light had stopped, and he felt an old scar. This calmed him a bit; that was a childhood scar from where he and Remmson had been playing, and Remmson had accidentally scratched him with those over-sized nails of his. He remembered how they laughed about their wounds in the scuffle over the G.I.Joe figures, and how the one place that one could not lick would be their elbow. Josh had strained his hardest to do so and clean the wound with his saliva, but it was just impossible.

So Remmson, being the best friend that he was, cleaned it for him. Remmson had a scratch on his collarbone, maddeningly out of reach by only a few millimeters. Josh returned the favor. Out of all the scars of life that they had both bared, that had all disappeared over the years, those were one of the only ones that chose to stay, perhaps of a reminder.

_Did the scar stop it?_ he thought wildly, surprised at the crazy thought. _Was that what saved me?_

The ring began to sparkle faintly, and he held it up to his eye to examine it better. Was it like a mood ring? A very small, jerking force, as of someone in ghost-form tugging on his finger, was trying to lead him somewhere.

Thinking that the day could not get any stranger, and why he trusted his life to a piece of cold metal anyway, he allowed himself to move forward at the next tug, to see what would happen.

Instantly, something appeared in front of him.

_What...what is that?_

A bubble with a shimmering outer ring was hovering in front of him, and he went after it at eye level and a steady walking pace...to goodness knew where. The bubble was leaving a red line in its wake, so he followed that, and looked behind him to see that it was still there in the spot that he was standing previously.

He followed.

* * *

**Denduron (continued)**

I jumped down and automatically, my body braced itself for defense. Though I was standing there stiffly, not making a move and trying to show no expression, the inside of me was coiled like a steel spring, ready to lash out and change defense to brutal offense. My bladed finger-tips twitched slightly, and I could feel the faint itching in my teeth, the urge to bite if I should be attacked.

They were all shouting something, but my rising 'defense mech' was shutting it out. They all seemed so angry. Their faces were contorted in their screaming and yelling, their eyes wild, and their bodies just as tense as mine. I could tell that it was taking a lot for them to just stand there and not attack me. Deciding that I should at least be ready, I slowly got down into a half-offense stance, raising my hands a little and preparing to bare my nails. My teeth were clenched together hard to permit me from posing too much of a threat.

"Wait!"

Everyone's eyes, including my own, glanced towards the entrance for a fraction of a second.

Nails had come forward with the rest of the troupe, his hands held out to signify peace. "Please, put away your weapons. This man is not responsible in any way."

The guards backed off by a hair. A particularly emotional one pointed to me accusingly, and I fought the rumble in my chest that threatened to become an audible growl of disdain. "He was here, doing nothing! He shows no emotion! He leaped over the wall not moments ago, we all saw it!"

(By this time, I'd gotten bored and sat down, scratching behind my ear.)

"Enough," said Nails, but the guard was persistent.

"But sir, he is a demon, look at him -"

"I said _'enough'_," he repeated, and the guard fell silent. Thus ended that conversation.

I couldn't help but interject, "He _is_ right though, you know. I'm not exactly innocent of everything."

"But you _are_ of my mother's murder," he said, and I didn't say anything, not yet. We would wait for when we were alone to talk. It wouldn't be good for everyone that had nothing to do with this to hear. "Get her down, gently," he said, voice breaking. I tried to meet his eyes, to see what he was feeling, but he closed them and looked away. The mixture of emotional scents, from those of barely-contained rage and that of smothering sadness, made my head whirl.

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to leave for the entrance where the other Travelers waited, but then _someone else_ stepped onto the scene, two people, actually. They made these house-guards look like midgets. Honestly, these guys could probably best the basketball players back on Second Earth without trying. Their skin was tanned and oiled down, their attire of what looked like grass armor, similar to these here, but far more grand; theirs had more exquisite patterns and matching spears in their right hand. Their hair was pulled back as far as possible, making them seem almost bald, and plaited around cord to their backs.

"The King Kaneon of Kelta requests an audience with you," said the foremost one in a deep bass voice that went lower than Azhra's. I swear I could feel the vibrations in my bones. I looked over at Nails to see if he knew anything about this, but he merely looked confused. "With all due respect, can the summon not wait?" he tried carefully. "My mother, the Lady of this Household, has not been dead for a full two hours -"

"We know," the guard responded, and instantly, the alarm bells in my head went off. How did _he_ know?

Apparently, Nails was thinking the same because his look of confusion deepened. "Leave that to us; your mother was a very good person, and she will be treated with great care," said the other guard, who had a considerably higher voice than the first. "But the summon cannot wait. This is urgent."

Nails looked at me, and we exchanged glances. The other Travelers, also on guard, did the same thing, and we came to a silent agreement.

We would go.

* * *

Our talk would have to wait. Outside of the house was a sort of rickshaw, similar to the ones that we'd seen in the bazaar earlier, but this was more sleek and you could tell that it was built solely for comfort. The seats were probably stuffed with down feathers, and the whole thing was painted in black and yellow. A sort of curtain of dense yellow feathers made a shade to hide us from the crowd. Since there were five of us - our slaves didn't come with us, which was good because this was not the time for that girl, and I hadn't seen her since she arrived anyway - we had to use two vehicles. I rode alongside Xyan and Kroma in the second one, with Nails and Azhra up front. 

I was scowling.

Like I said, Xyan and I would not get along well from this point, and we basically tried our level best to ignore each other. Of course, we had come to an accord of tolerance toward each other, mutually, but I honestly did not think that we'd ever be the best of friends to the point where we'd have a party together. Sure, maybe a drink of two, but that would be about it.

It did not help that Kroma was sitting with us, much. He was always gazing off into space, like Devon usually does in his free time, and when he did do anything it was to chatter or be plain dorky. However, he tried to lift the atmosphere in the vehicle as best he could, I silently thanked him for it. Of anyone here, excluding Nails, I think I felt closer to him. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I knew, or thought that I knew, that he was not what he seemed, but had good intentions. Judging by the way the others acted around him, I could tell that he wasn't deceiving them.

Sometime during the relatively smooth ride (better than that damned horse-ride, anyway), squished between Xyan and Kroma, I think I fell asleep. I remember coming back to life with a jolt to see that we were getting out, and when we did, it was like the world just opened up - fresh air! I could breathe!

(Yes. Part of the feud between Xyan and I was that I _was_ daring one of them to so much as fart so that I could take my cue and walk alongside the vehicle itself. She'd been doing the same, I bet.)

Stretching with enthusiasm, Kroma and I went forward to check on Nails while Xyan went to Azhra. Nails was looking rather pale, but for the most part, composed. His eyes were turning a rather faint shade of pink from suppressed tears, but his confusion and fear was beginning to overwhelm his sadness, little by little. I found myself wishing that he'd get over it soon. Just standing next to depressing people made me sick.

I took the time to figure out our surroundings and found that during the ride, we had gone through the plaza and into the palace itself, in the center of the city, along a paved road behind several gates and around into a sort of courtyard. I could feel the change in elevation and fought the pressure in my head due to the altitude. Not a hard battle considering what I usually do every day, but still. We had to be several hundred feet above ground level. I looked at the people pulling the rickshaws and saw that they hadn't broken a sweat.

Not bad, for humans, once again.

Looking up, I could see that the palace was _still_ huge. I remember at one point, my travels on Second Earth had taken me to The Arch in St. Louis, Missouri. I had never taken in how big it really was until I got up close and actually touched it. If I could imagine at least thirty of the width of the base of that one leg of The Arch, that would be the size of the palace all the way around...as far as I knew. For all I did, this wasn't a complete square or rectangle or whatever.

The tiered floors of this immense pyramid seemed to touch the sky, made of sandstone and slabs of other large rocks and decorated with thousands upon thousands of symbolic carvings. The suns beat down on the courtyard, making the flagged stones burn bright white and blinding me momentarily. I closed my eyes to shut out the searing light and scorching heat, and felt someone grab me gently by the hand and lead me along up a winding set of long, shallow stairs. My nose told me that it was good ol' Kroma, and I made sure to thank him again.

As soon as we were in the shade of a rather large lintel that reminded me of a monster garage, I opened my eyes and blinked what water there was left into them, trying to get rid of the pain and the spots. Beside me, Kroma was doing the same thing, but the other Travelers showed no sign that they had been bothered. I noticed that Kroma was being lead by Xyan, and figured that it made sense. We'd all held hands to get us where we were going.

From here, the house servants decided to tag along with us. If possible, they were even scantily dressed than the ones at Nails's home, and technically far more pretty. They had a certain grace about them that reminded me of super-models. They walked behind us with their eyes downcast and hands clasped in front or behind them as the guards led us continually upward, through hallways and up more stairs, an finally to the last hall.

Would you believe that the inside of this pyramid is really not building stone, but precious stone and polished wood? The walls and floor were practically gleaming with pride as we passed. A large purple curtain was ahead of us, and I could feel a bit of a draft coming in from there.

_Must be a very large window,_ I thought, knowing that it was probably a very big understatement.

"Wait here," said the second guard, and we all stood there somewhat uncertainly as he and his buddy met the guards in front of the curtain and went through. Kroma leaned against the wall next to me, and I sympathized with him. Azhra looked like one of the guards, but far shorter than them by at least five feet (and he's probably a little above average, say my height). He said nothing and did nothing but close his eyes. Re stood like a sailor at attention, feet together and hands clasped behind her back, eyes also closed, but I could tell by the way her hair kept standing up that she didn't like being this close to me.

(Can't possibly imagine why.)

I, on the other hand, fought the urge to either pace, sit, or just all out go to sleep on the ground where I stood. My eyes were stinging, my hair was beginning to weigh a hundred and forty pounds in the heat, and I was seriously considering shaving it off with my own nails here in a second if we didn't hurry up. The only good consolation that I had was that at least now we were in the shade, a cool, dark chamber that smelled faintly of the sweet scent of mold and plant-life growing in between the bricks in the walls and behind the decorative stone itself, or the wood for walls and doors and vents. It almost felt like a tomb, but was more open than that. This hallway was probably twenty feet front to back and as high, with banners draping from the ceiling in vibrant colors. The guards up here were dressed in purple _cloth_ this time, over their fancy grass skirts, and their weapons were a little heavier. Compare the regular European spear to the Roman Pilum and you'd about have it.

Giving in, I decided that for the moment I would try and get rid of that suppressing wait on my back by braiding my hair again. Only problem was that there was so much of it...the leather strap that I'd used before really came in handy about now, and I sectioned off three piles of hair and began to entwine them into a rope that was threatening to go to the backs of my knees. I finished the braid just as we were called in, throwing it over my shoulder and onto my back to keep it out of the way and brushing back a few stray strands of hair from my forehead.

The curtains parted for us, and we walked out onto what appeared at first to be an open patio or another courtyard, though not nearly as huge. Its tiles were instead shadowed stones that didn't reflect the suns in our eyes, with a bit of a shade about twenty feet up. The space in front seemed to look out over the _entire _city, bathed in its sunlight and crawling with plants, but something was off. Like evaporation, or a very thin, transparent curtain, there was something there that seemed to shimmer around the perimeter separating the pedestal we were on from the void. I made a mental note to check it out later, whatever it was.

Along the wall to our right, though, were four large thrones and differently-colored cushions as big as the armchairs in the HQ. Seated comfortably in these magnificent thrones of metal, skins, bright cloth and feathers with grass shades, were the King and Prince of Kelta.

----------

The King was huge. He was a great big guy sitting on a throne that looked like it could only just support him, with tanned skin and covered from crown to anklet in those blue stones that Nails had called glaze. His crown looked to be made out of nothing but gold and blue crystal (glaze) with ivory sticking out of it, a magnificent thing with its own headdress of black and white feathers and wooden beads. What stood out about him, besides that he would probably be able to beat the largest sumo wrestler, was maybe the cheerful gleam in his eye that told me that he wasn't that bad of a ruler. He was fair.

Maybe at one point, he was a fearsome warrior of some sort, because not all of that fat looked like it had come from sitting on that poor throne for a decade.

Next to him was his son, the prince. He was shorter than those giant guards out there, with about the same skin tones as his father, but held himself like royalty. Which in fact, he was. (Duh.) He wasn't decked out in as much glaze though, which was a relief. Kaneon's jewelry was beginning to blind me. Instead, he wore the lengths of purple silk as a shirt and a light leather tunic with woven designs. The belt was made of a gold chain links, and on his head was a little more than a smaller version of Kaneon's crown, say about a third the size with a long black braid underneath.

At least he didn't look _too_ much like a pansy. The sword at his side was just an inch or two big for him, but I had no doubt that he'd be good at the swordplay deal if things could ever get down to it. At the moment, he was studying us with a bit of curiosity, being waited upon by his servants that knelt on either side of the throne, serving him wine or fanning him and his father.

And then the last one. I didn't even notice him until we were beckoned to sit upon the colorful cushions, and I just happened to hear him breathe next to the prince. Lucky me, I was seated right next to him.

The Adviser that I'd heard about, Hekate Seign, the half mountain-sprite descendant of the legendary Soahr. He wore purple robes that seemed to float above the ground in a lofty, regal way, but his hairstyle was more like Azhra's - it wasn't slicked back, but instead harbored the similar style with the only difference being that it was firmly spiked into place by whatever they used for gel out here. He was covered in jewelry too, but out of the other two, not nearly as much. He had rings on every finger and blue in both ears, and distinguishing wristbands instead of a crown. Strapped to his back, I could just see the rather long hilt of a leather-wrapped sword over his shoulder with a tapering point. Oddly, from what I could see, it didn't have a guard.

His breathing was unlike the others that I had encountered in Kelta. It was almost like a child's, easy on the lungs and much softer on the ears. I actually appreciated it for a bit, for the lack of unnecessary noise, but to every good thing there was usually something of the opposite clinging to it somewhere. His scent was so shockingly familiar that I did a double-take. Discretely, I tried to look at him out of the corner of my eye and size him up.

Yep. He may have been somewhat small, but there was no way that I'd be taking him for granted. Like Kroma, he had this weird little beastie aura thing going on, and even though the emissions were very slight, the thought of what it could be set my hair on end.

His eye slowly moved from under the hawk-like hooded features, the long eyelashes making no sound as one eyelid closed for the briefest of moments before going back to look at Kaneon.

The alarm bells in my head went off again.

He _winked_ at me.

He _knew_ something. More than that, I'd met him before, but it was impossible -

_Why impossible?_ my mind reasoned with me. _That strange man, Fraser, why couldn't it be him?_

It looked nothing like him - except for the eyes. No, they weren't the same color as the blue that I'd seen in the cafe, more along the lines of a light brown, but there was something inside me that just _knew - _it didn't matter that he'd changed his height or weight or hair or eye color, I just had this feeling that told me that I was right. The strange scent remained.

And what creeped me out further - I _liked _it. Like the smell of home. It was almost irresistible. I don't know why it was drawing me closer, but I fought it as hard as I could and remained sessile on the cushion, neither looking at him or acknowledging his presence.

Stupid nose, cut it out...

_Like other worlds, _the back of my mind kept telling me. _Like deep jungles and lush forests, arid desserts and the sea, machinery and little bit of home -_

Shut up, I commanded myself, and though it died down to a little less than a whisper, the thoughts remained. Fortunately, the others outside of my little world were talking, and though I really was not interested in what any of them had to say, I decided to join in, if for the sake of quitting the relentless barrage of urges and suggestions in my head.

"Welcome, ambassadors!" Kaneon boomed, and I had to squint my eyes a little at the sound. "I am, as you know, the King Kaneon of Kelta, and this here" - he slapped a hand as big as a trashcan lid on his son's shoulder, surprisingly not squashing him flat - "is my son, the Prince Ayelen of Kelta. My Adviser, Hekate Seign..." He gestured to the one I was sitting next to.

Everyone bowed and was smiling, except for me and the Adviser. I sat stiffly with my arms folded, senses on alert. Maybe I was just paranoid and needed a break, but I doubted it. I wasn't receiving any bad vibes besides aura from this character, but the way he'd winked at me did a little more than just set me on guard. I cursed the others for not letting me sit at the end like a good beast of burden, far away from creepy people like this.

The Adviser, Seign, finally took a bow, and our eyes locked again. I felt something deep within the little soul that I have left shiver as though a bucket of ice water had been poured into my insides. It wasn't fear; it wasn't anticipation. It was something that went beyond me, beyond my very genetics, that made me question my existence in that one fraction of time. It was something within my bones, in my mind, beyond me entirely. Though I would deny it to my dying breath, I have never felt so insignificant and without purpose in my life.

For one moment, I was a mortal.

I was nothing more, and nothing less.

-------------

"I have received word about your dear mother," said Kaneon sympathetically to Nails. Nails's eyes, that I could see, were still a little pink, but so far he hadn't really shed any tears yet. From my study and experience, when humans hold in strong emotions for longer period of time than they should, it begins to destroy them from the inside out. I'm not sure why, but I'd have to guess that it's a painful ordeal. I couldn't help him out of this one; he had to battle that demon on his own. "She was a good Lady, and a close friend."

By the way that his shoulders trembled and his brows kept furrowing, I could only suppose that whatever it was was going to work on eating out his soul. I actually felt a touch of sadness that I could not help him at all.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing low, "I am aware that you have called an audience with us -"

"Yes, yes," said Kaneon, sympathy suddenly forgotten. "I came to ask your advice on the war. The Lady, your mother, was somehow a very intelligent and wise person considering her years and her gender. I remember that she would talk about changing patterns and clashing winds, but I nor my priests could make head nor tail of what she was talking about. My Adviser here, though, suggested you since your mother might have shared these things with you."

Nails closed his eyes and nodded. _Great_, I thought. _So what are WE here for? What am I here for?_

Oh, yeah.

"The rest of you have also been called because my Head Priest and Adviser have suggested that you would be a good asset to our war effort," Kaneon explained. I twitched, but said nothing, not yet. "But you -" and I knew I was going to be dragged into this somehow - "Are here because the Chief of the Milago village had reported another legendary descendant among us, apparently from the great Sasuroya Xohukahnn himself."

There was a pause.

"So...?" I said, earning a few glares from everyone in the room except Kroma and the royalty. Like I cared. I wanted to get to the point with as less delay as possible.

"So, your part will be to speak to your people and other Beasts in the Hsid and keep them away during our war."

Yet _again_ with this. I wasn't about to preach another sermon, since doing that here could probably get me staked to the wall. I supposed that it didn't really matter since that was my whole reason for being here in the first place.

"Also -"

_There's more?_

"-My Adviser and Head Priest have a proposition for you that will be discussed later, mainly you, _Hadouin shek Kiru-Ha_. For now, all of you are invited to dinner tonight to dine with us, be entertained, and discuss our plans."

All of the servants suddenly got on one knee and brought whatever object they were holding to the ground in a loud CLACK!

"The king has spoken!" they chorused simultaneously, and we were waved out by the guards. The other Travelers were not looking as confused as I at this point, and I would have to ask them why. Things were starting to happen a little too quickly here. One moment, I meet them and learn of a whole knew destiny, the next, I just got dragged into a world war without my permission.

I made sure that I was the last to leave, since I didn't trust that Adviser, but when I looked behind me to check on him, he was gone.

I smelled him before I saw him.

_What -_

"You are Remmson?" came a voice beside me that made my skin crawl pleasurably, but made me bare my teeth.

"Why?" I said, turning to face him. Amazing. Almost without a sound, he'd managed to not really sneak up on me, but corner me without me noticing. He waited for the others to disappear around the corner (in which they noticed my departure and looked back at me; I waved them on to show them that I was okay) before leaning against the wall beside me, arms folded like mine and peering into my eyes in interest, as though trying to find something. Not to be outdone, I stared back at him.

His voice was rimmed with a very slight accent or slur, so that his tongue rolled the 'R' and 'ms' shortly before flattening the 'n' with a very light 'un'. Almost like a French accent, but very off in that perspective. It gave a kind of purr to his voice that I otherwise would have found annoying, but for some reason found kind of cool.

"As the King said, I have a proposition for you," he said softly. "I wanted to talk to you before the others."

Though it sounded like perfect English, there was that trace of an accent again. If I said that he didn't have one then I'd know that I'd be lying; if I said that he did, I would have to strain my ears to pick it up. Almost like a well-rounded nobleman, every syllable was pronounced with care and accuracy.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Because I am becoming increasingly convinced that our heritage is the same."

("...Hair-i-taj iss-ze sayme...")

It took a moment for this to set in, and as it did, I thought back to Nails and the man in the caravan's words about not knowing if Xohukahn or Seign had continued their lines. There could be the slightest chance that he and I were related...

"So what are you really here for, then?" I said, standing inches away from his light brown eyes. "You wanted to talk to me, and I know it's not about our bloodlines. What do you want?"

"Ah, I have your attention?" he said, smirking. I returned the smirk, surprised at myself. "Not for long. What do you want?"

He leaned down closer to me until I was vaguely reminded of me and Re's exchange. I had no doubt that he might do it too - he certainly looked capable enough of such an act. "In the name of progress and growth, tribes from all over have been contributing to us. The rising Bedoowan have a type of game that is very popular here in Kelta. It is called K'chek, and it is a series of arena battles that range from simple matches to death matches."

"And let me guess - you want me and the others to compete?" I said. This was starting to make a little sense.

He smiled at me, revealing his rows of white and delicately pointed teeth. "Yes. But I want you to win."

"Why me?"

"Because you're my relative; you're family. Family looks out for each other, right?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. Though I fought the recoil and the urge to become lost in the touch, I got the incredibly sickening feeling that he was playing me for a fool. The way that he'd said this was in the same tone used when adults would smile in that irritating way and agree with the child when they just suggested that the moon was made of cheese.

Then, something that I could not believe I let him do - that hand caressed my cheek and moved my bangs aside. I was already frozen in place by the first touch on my shoulder, but this! And my own mind's observation that had me reeling:

_He smells nice._

On impulse, my own hand reached up and caught his wrist. He only blinked, then smirked, and I walked away from him as quickly as I could without looking like a coward. My heart-beat usually doesn't speed up like that, but by the way I could hear it pounding in my chest and in my ears, I almost got the sneaking suspicion that he could hear it, too. Maybe it was my paranoia again, but I could swear that I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck.

--------------

We were shown our rooms by the lesser servants, the ones shorter than us, and got settled in. The rooms was half the entire floor with sliding doors that totally concealed them. Since we were dropped off here at the door, I silently refused to go in. All of us ended up parting different ways: Kroma to the palace gardens, Nails to meet the people bringing his mother's body to the palace, and Azhra and Re going off to spar in the grassier, shadier courtyards.

Considering that I didn't have anything else better to do (and my servant girl, Cerith, wanted me alone with her and I sure as hell wasn't gonna stay), I followed Re and Azhra, just to see what would happen.

Which meant, out here in the compound of training warriors, I had to sit out in the grass and meditate on thoughts of home and watch the two of them practice with 'wands', wooden swords that hummed and thwacked on contact and would leave quite a bruise if hit hard enough. The two of them were only doing basics across the lawn, but well enough. I used the time to take note of their movements and study them better.

Azhra had a smooth way of moving, letting every action follow up quickly with little drag time. He didn't have to move much, and for every hit that he couldn't dodge because of his size, he let bounce off of him. I wasn't sure if that would work with an actual sword, but it seemed to work well enough; there wasn't even a bruise yet.

Re, on the other hand, had a fluid-like way of moving that didn't have too much drag either, but because she was smaller and lighter, she was able to practically dance out of the way of the swinging weapon with apparent ease. Her eyes were focused in concentration, whereas Azhra's were not. He was a natural-born fighter, and I suppose she wasn't, much. Not that she wouldn't be able to kick ass if given the chance, but I don't think she would have been anywhere near the endurance that Azhra could keep up.

But on my thoughts of home, I took this time to observe them and pick the grass absently in the shade, thinking of the gang back home. I haven't seen you and Dwight or Lace in a while, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was starting to miss you guys. Devon probably still screams his head off and talks to his machines; Dwight probably still kisses people when he's drunk; you are probably jumped by the Double A's (Asmodeus and Amadeus) toward a crime lord to beat him up. Lace is probably still waiting at the top of the building, waiting to see me coming home and greet me with open arms and thousands of repeated promises to never let me go ever again -

-It's amazing how much she is like her older sister. During the beginning of all of this, Lane would never leave my side, except when I ordered her to. And of all the hard tasks that she faced everyday and took on with as much enthusiasm as possible, this had to be the number one that made her sad. That same dejected look, but not without the glimmer of hope in those eyes. She'd always put on her best smile and try not to cry, and tell me to come back sometime and that she'd be waiting, ever waiting.

If I ever do come home, meaning to shove my over-inflated ego aside and forget the promised thrills, the promised answers, the destiny before me, then the one thing that I want to do is at least insure that Lace will not waste her life waiting for someone who does not deserve her confidence, love, and heart. Of all the times that I have alone, when my mind is at the most quiet, I begin to admit things to myself: I am a mercenary, I am a killer; I am ruthless, near-heartless, and savage to the point of almost being feral. I am perhaps ten times worse than the original eighty of the Infinite, though only thirty-two remain. And even though they have become the most powerful and faithful of friends and allies to me, we are still what we are. A gang like this should be no place for a little girl to grow up.

The choice of releasing her from our service has been a big one. On one hand, we have her freedom to consider, her safety and the promise of a normal life. On the other, we have us. It seems like a no-brainer, but unlike normal people, she's latched onto us like more than just a leech. She can't live without us, even if given the chance for a normal life. She wouldn't want it.

She wanted to stay with us, forever. It was just unfortunate that there would be no way that she'd last that long -

KA-THWACK!

I was jerked back into reality sharply at the sound of the wands clashing rather violently. I looked up, expecting to glare at Re for being annoying, but instead found Azhra standing over me with a slight smile on his face.

"Care to try?" he said, extending a spare toward me.

I only blinked at him.

As you know, I've never really had much use for a sword; on the streets back home, it was either a gun or a dagger, something for close-in work. (Besides, why use one blade when you have ten free blades on each finger?) Nevertheless, I carefully took the wand by the handle and saw that it was double-edged, about mid-length, and much lighter than the short-sword that I'd laid in the grass beside me in order to sit down. I took a few experimental swings and slices and heard the wood cut through the air with a _thrum-whum_ sound.

I stepped forward, a little uncertainly and unsure of what to expect. I caught Re's eye, and immediately felt the beast within me recoil with a hiss; she was giving me a very strange, and not too favorable of a look. What was she planning?

"So, Remmson," she said, twirling her wand deftly. "Both of us against you, or just one to one?"

"I'd rather try to kick _your_ ass than his," I said, smirking, "because he hasn't given me any problems yet."

"Are you implying that I am annoying?" she said with a mock offense that had me on guard. Her smirk was mirroring my own, and she was speaking kind of loudly.

"No. You are _very_ annoying."

In a flash, she'd skimmed across the ground and almost belted me a blow to the face that probably would have broken my nose if I hadn't instinctively brought up my own wand in a block.

Before I could even recover, she was on the next attack, and, not knowing what to do with the stick in my hands, I jumped backward out of the match and snarled at her.

"Bitch, what -"

"Here," said Azhra, standing in front of me. "Adjust your fingers on the handle and stand sideways."

Shrugging off my righteous indignance with severe reluctance, I gave in to his teachings and did as I was told. He proceeded to give me a crash-course in swordplay.

All of what he said, I could not remember; I was just learning the terms and names and positions as we went, trying to download all of the information before being turned around a second later to battle Re. Running over it quickly in my head, I stood facing full-front with my wand in both hands and up at the ready, blade horizontal and ready for every attack except behind.

She went first with hardly a sound, darting in and thrusting forward for my stomach. I automatically hit the top of her wand, deflecting the blow, but she came up and around with a swift sweep above my lowered weapon. I felt the wood nick my cheekbone and stepped backward, body facing sideways. My form was not perfect - in fact, downright clumsy. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and all of what I was trying to think of doing wasn't really turning out so well. Every time, she'd almost get me, with me dodging out of the way (following that same, accursed form) just barely. The mark on my face was, so far, the only thing that she'd scored me on yet, and barely.

I silently cursed the furs that I was wearing as the sun beat down and our fight had lasted for more than twenty seconds. Thankfully, Azhra had pulled us apart.

"I think you still need...practice, my friend," he said, and though I knew he was trying to make it look like I hadn't done that badly, I could tell that practice, to them, was a major understatement.

Scoffing, I untied the sash about my waist and shrugged off the now-heavy fur and, suddenly self-conscious, pulled the lighter shirt underneath it a little more closed over my chest, sealing it there in place with the sash again before picking up my wand once more.

"Can it, Azhra," I grumbled, facing Re again. She looked like she hadn't even broken a sweat, but I'd be damned if I was going to have my ass handed to me _again_ by her.

But Re had put down her wand already.

"No, Azhra; defeating a hopeless novice is not a victory," she said smoothly, and my eye twitched. "With enough training, he might be able to chop up a straw dummy, but until then, I do not think that he is anywhere near worthy to battle us."

"You too, heifer," I growled. "Pick it up and face me!"

But she turned her head to the side and ignored me.

I got angry.

Maybe a little _too _angry. Especially at her next comment:

"Face it, Remmson. In an actual fight, we are your superiors in all instances."

I heard my knuckles crack involuntarily as they flexed and the hard blade slid forward. Ditching the sword and baring my teeth, I snarled, "Eat this!"

I launched.

In such a rage was I as I sped in a zig-zagging formation across the lawn, claws itching to rip open her pretty, silky throat. Was this her revenge? Trying to embarrass me in front of all of the warriors, who had been watching and laughing in amusement at my failure? To make Azhra give up on me?

But then, what did I care? I wasn't one to usually be peer-pressured, but considering all of the stress that I'd been having today, this had finally pushed me over the limit.

Maybe it was the terms that she was using that made me so upset, about fighting, matches, battles...superiors and novices, victories and utter defeats...all I knew was that then, in that one instant in which it took me approximately less than two and a half seconds in my pattern to attack, I would cripple her. If not kill her, cripple her, beat her to an ever-loving pulp -

-Her eyes widened as I disappeared from her vision in a blurred streak of black and white, and she staggered backward altogether as I appeared in her face, my hand already coming down in an open-fingered slap on her torso or head to cleave her into pieces with my claws-

-when another blur came between us and deflected my attack.

There was a satisfying ripping sound as my claws tore through the false sword like a shredder. Judging the angle it hit, it wasn't as clean. Wood grain and splinters flew everywhere in an explosion that knocked them both backward - I'd stopped in my tracks. Re, in her surprise, had fallen smack on her butt, so I wasn't leaving without some satisfaction. Azhra, however, had come between us at the last second during his rounds around the match to check on us and deflected an attack that would have sent her on a one-way ticket to Hell.

If she didn't survive the blow.

Tch, lucky.

He stood there in the same pose, still holding the handle of the wand tightly in his hands. I could see the painful-looking splinters lodged into them and his knuckles, but he gave no expression that it had happened. A few slivers were sticking out of their faces, and it was a miracle that he didn't lose an eye. Nevertheless, there was one that had come close, right above his eyebrow.

_Damn,_ I thought wildly. _Why'd I stop?_

I snorted and snapped my hand back into place, holding it up in front of me so that Re would have a view.

"Get a good look, bitch. I don't take that kind of shit from _anyone_, do y'hear?"

Azhra stood purposefully and let the shorn remains of the wand handle fall to the grass with a thump. Holding up his hands, he said, "Xyan was not offending you purposely -"

"The hell she wasn't!" I retorted, whipping my hand back at my side and stepping forward. "That was uncalled for!"

"True, it was unnecessary," he conceded, giving Re a look, "but she was merely stating the obvious. You do need practice with the sword."

"I don't need to practice _shit,_" I steamed, but I could feel my fingertips itching as they tried to retract. I didn't really have my anger anymore, for it was slowly dissipating. What did they take me for? A human? "Have you forgotten that fast? Let me spell it out for the both of you, so that we can AVOID dumb situations like these."

I closed my hands into fists and set them akimbo, then leaned forward to emphasize, "I DO NOT REQUIRE THIS SKILL. I DON'T NEED IT."

"Fool," spat Re, "you wouldn't survive for three seconds against us or the other warriors if we didn't hold back -"

" - I CAN TAKE ON ANYTHING MORTAL THAT COMES MY WAY," I said, cutting her off deliberately. "BECAUSE I. HAVE. MY OWN. BUILT-IN. WEAPONS."

"You are suicidal," was her reply.

"_NAW_," I said with all the sarcasm I could muster. I mean really, anyone and everyone look at me and tell me that I am NOT psychotic, suicidal, hyperactive, and overly-enthusiastic about destroying things?! Go on, I _dare_ you, reader, to look at me and tell me so! (If you should ever see me. Good luck with that, Rem-watchers.)

I turned away and picked up my wand again, this time to face Azhra.

"But I'll learn anyway, just to show you that I CAN take on _anything_ mortal."

Azhra's slow smile turned into a blindingly-white grin that made me sulk. So sue me if I'm a little on the competitive side. It was that exactly that got me here in the first place, wasn't it? Besides, I wanted to get back at Re. She'd done it on purpose, and if I didn't scare her enough, then I'd at least make her admit who was the better fighter as soon as I mastered their weird way of fighting.

Azhra was given another wand by our waiting servants on the sidelines, and he cut the air sharply with it in a deep _whum_.

"First position, then, Remmson," he said, and I turned sideways.

* * *

**Second Earth**

To the people on the streets of the great city, (those that cared to pay attention, at least) they would have seen an unusual young man with untidy brown hair and dressed in black, striding hurriedly forward with a stoned look on his face, the whites of the eyes showing.

To those who didn't know (that cared), this was only because he was staring at something that they rest of the world could not see.

The brilliant bubble with its red wake loafed gently around corners and up streets to goodness knew where, but all Josh knew now was to just follow it, follow the pretty light -

And it was only after he'd walked his sixth or twelfth - honestly, he'd lost track by now - block that he realized where he was going. He was on a very familiar corner, next to a very familiar cafe. Tentatively, and almost dreading it, he turned his head to look at the blackened wreck of a warehouse across the street.

There was definitely something messed up about the place. Of course, in the past, he and Remmson and the rest of the gang had hung out in old, demolished buildings before (that were still standing, sort of) and not had a second thought about it, but this was different. Whereas it was covered in soot and nothing but charred remains flopping dangerously in a gust of wind, it sat there like a tattered banner on a battlefield, but with its own aura of darkness emanating from it like a stubborn squall on the ocean's horizon.

Even on a sunny afternoon like this, it sat there, dark and foreboding with something that sent chills up and down Josh's spine and made him want to _not _look its way. Unfortunately, it was this very spot that the light wanted him to go.

He hesitated, uncertain. He was following something that no one else could see, _mysteriously_ to the last place that he wanted to be. Even though it was just across the street, there was just _something_ about that building that made him not want to go over there.

However, when he glanced at the ring on his finger, he knew that he wouldn't have a choice. The mass of color on the inside of the "marble" stone was beginning to swirl and thrash and glow a sort of white, much like what had tried to swallow him earlier. Now having yet another reason not to go, what with the closer he approached, the more likely that the light would burst forth and try to consume him again, he stood there and waited.

And waited.

The bubble waited with him, starting to sparkle more brightly, and somehow...more seductively.

_It is sort of pretty,_ thought Josh to himself. _Even though it technically can't be seen. ...I wonder if it is warm to the touch, like the sun? I want to touch it, and it's making me much happier than staring at the dark, creepy old thing._

A rather enthusiastic feeling that he could not suppress rising in his chest, he felt a slow smile creep across his face (that made several passerby - however many there were - edge away rather nervously), and followed without reluctance. He could tell that he was getting close, and, not rather irritated to have to draw his eyes away from that immensely-enticing light to avoid the traffic, he followed the floating, glowing orb and its red trail into a hole in the building that looked like it had been blown out...

...And stepped into something like a winter wonderland.

It was _snowing_, but it wasn't cold. In that one instant, Josh tried to comprehend this factor. The sky was the same bright one that it had been, though not nearly as cloudy, but at this angle, it made the atmosphere seem white and blank. There were flurries of snowflakes dancing through the air and leaving imprints of his shoes as he walked gingerly inside, coating the walls and remains of furniture and structure within the boxed-in space with its high, scorched walls.

_Scorched..._

_...This isn't snow. These are ashes._

And indeed they were. Piles and piles of ashes that made it seem as though he'd walked into Canada during the winter. Hills and slopes and spatterings of it upon the black walls that rose up and made him feel slightly claustrophobic, as though they reached up to the sky and loomed over him with their jagged, charred tips resembling background mountain peaks...pieces and bits stuck out of the ashes like the wreckage of a ship on a beach. Being very careful and covering his mouth and nose as a blast of wind swirled the flakes like snow, he sat down on what was left of a large two by four and looked around some more.

There was nothing to look at, really, though the "scenery" was indeed fascinating. Josh felt as though he'd just stepped into a whole other world. Pigeons and crows perched here and there, not looking for food but just chilling out, cooing softly or rasping to each other in a harsh, but mellow conversation. The silence was almost unnerving, with only faint birdsong and the whistle and howl of the wind between the holes and splits, over the wall and through the nooks and crannies, the groaning of the burnt timbers as their somehow impossible stability allowed them to bend as one with the wind.

The light began to circle Josh, and he sighed peacefully. This place wasn't so bad. In fact, that little light was sort of comforting. The ball disappeared behind his shoulder, and naturally, he turned to look. The position of the wood he was sitting on was almost horizontal in the side of a slope and looking down into a sort of small valley that could fit an in-ground swimming pool; from there, beneath the slope he sat upon that looked down upon such a valley, was something like a ledge of solid concrete that made him guess that he was technically in the basement area. There were other ledges and platforms with shredded and burnt ends that suggested they were floors, and even a stair case going up from the other end of the valley and onto a piece of flooring. It all looked like a tree house, almost, but dangerous and quiet.

The light played with the birds, who flapped and squawked indignantly, then alighted into the center of what looked to Josh like a quicksand pit or something as nasty, the center of the valley.

_**B-bmmp.**_

The force of the pulse shook his very bones this time, and he tore his gaze away to look at the ring. It had become quite tight around his finger, but not in a totally-uncomfortable way. He brushed his free finger over it and realized how much it felt like skin, his skin.

In fact, this thought made him panic again as another pulse rocked him hard enough to jar him from his seat and have him tumble down onto the platform below.

Ash flew as he rolled, panic pumping hard in his chest as he prepared himself for the worst. There'd be no way to get a hand-hold on his plummeting descent, and he didn't know why, but he really, really, _really _did not want to fall into that giant ash tray.

WHUMP.

FSHHHH...

Josh's panic was suddenly driven out of his lungs with the rest of his air as he hit the platform rather hard, mildly surprised that the timbers and piece of foundation supported the force of his falling weight but grateful, nonetheless. He inhaled the smell of smoke and soot from where his face pressed against the cold stone, panting and trying to slow down the beat of his heart.

He couldn't understand. He'd fallen many times before, and yet, for a good landing or not, he never got used to the thrill of the drop. During his first days out with Remmson, navigating the streets from the tops of the buildings...even in his arms, he never did, and - he thought with a small smile - never would grow accustomed to it. Thankfully, Josh had landed on his stomach with his arms beneath him, so his fores absorbed most of the shock. He pushed himself up carefully and looked to his left, only to immediately wish that he hadn't.

There was what he now dubbed the 'Ashtray' right below him, but how far down, he could not tell, maybe ten or more feet, give or take. The light hovered there in the middle, just above and almost eye level to him, and as he decided to be daring by dangling his legs over the side, the light flickered like a lamp with a short and dropped.

Josh blinked.

For a moment, nothing happened...but then the ash began to move and swirl as though it were alive.

The sky went dark - everything went pitch black; a type of blue-white lightning shot up from the center of the swirling ash and vertical into the blackness above. Josh was doing a little more than just flipping out now. He'd pulled his legs back onto the ledge and backed up as far as possible to avoid the stray strands of electricity and flying flurry of blank flakes. His heartbeat was speeding up again in anticipation of something about to happen, whether for the good or worse of his health or situation unknown. He tried desperately to penetrate the darkness with his eyes above him, but could not even see stars. It was a darkness unlike anything he had ever seen or heard of, like cave-darkness, where he was sure that, high above in that atmosphere, even the lightning itself was mute.

Down here, it wasn't loud so much as it was soft and almost completely silent. The hairs along the back of his neck and arms stood up, as did the loose threads in his apparel. Energy crackled and sizzled where it touched the other mounds, and the ashes swirling in the whirlpool beneath him sounded like the shifting sands, but softer, quieter.

Josh's arm began to shake violently, and at first he put it off as nerves, since the light show was far more interesting, but soon came to see that the light was literally spilling from the ring again, the same as the pillar of rogue lightning shooting _up_ in front of him. Its sparks danced from the furiously vibrating stone and up his arm again, and as if things could not get any worse, a glance at the closeness of the edge he was next to confirmed his final, and greatest fear.

He was being sucked in.

The slopes of ash were being pulled away in little bits compared to the force that was trying to drag him slowly into the depths of the churning pool below. Josh closed his eyes and tried to block out the inviting lightning, but he couldn't resist. He wanted to let go of his grip here, now, as he held on to whatever large debris he could with his legs suspended in the air, to just let go and fall into its goodness...

...And the more he thought of giving in and letting go, the more his arm pulled him toward the crux. Visions began to pass by his eyes, until he came to see that they were real. The shadow dogs from earlier, their images or maybe their actual selves floating round and round until warping and becoming sucked into the center; trees, cars, people that barely seemed to know that they were there (he recognized them as the dead men in the alley) - everything that he could recognize and some that he could not - all sucked up as particles of ash, and nothing more.

_**- B-bmmp, b-bmmp, b-bmmp, b-BMMP, B-BMMP -**_

- The pulse of some enormous _heart_ in that pit, THE heart, calling out to his own pulsing, light-bathed arm, the two making a steady beat of simultaneous pulsing, growing louder in Josh's ears until he could feel it reverberate in his own chest, and he could take it anymore he just couldn't take it -

- He let go -

- And he was swallowed into the core.

* * *

**Denduron (6-9)(Continued)**

By the time the warriors had all stopped their activities and had gathered 'round to watch us, I thought I had gotten the basics down well enough to put in some twists of my own. Needless to say, I had held my own against Re (going "easy" on me, as it were) for longer than a minute and was ready for some real action.

"I am impressed at your speed of learning, Remmson," said Azhra, and I was pleased to find him beaming and actually...meaning it. Re didn't say anything, but instead looked hard at me.

I ignored her.

"Keshil!" barked one of the warriors, and we all started to find that they were our audience. The one that had spoken, a well-tanned fellow in a simple brown tunic and a laughing face, said, "Newcomers and guests of His Majesty, will you not join us in our practice for the K'chek Battles? For fun, of course."

"Sure," I said, before the others could say anything. "I'm ready for a fight. What're the rules?"

The Laughing one stood and gathered his friends about him. "The rules are simple: win at any means necessary. In the death-matches, anything is allowed except for help from an accomplice in the stands unless the crowd demands it...just to make things more entertaining and interesting."

Something jolted in my chest, but I shoved it back down forcefully. I did not want to think of those memories, not here, not now.

Not ever.

Scoffing, I rested the sword on my shoulder. "Alright. Who's my first opponent?"

"There can be multiple opponents," explained another with a necklace of wooden beads next to the first. "But we'll go easy on you this round, seeing as you just learned the art of swordplay, and it takes years to accomplish..."

"Don't give me that crap," I snorted, and tilted my head to the side. "Are we gonna fight or what?"

The laughing warrior chuckled and clapped his hands together. "Sh'kil, bring forward the weapons!"

_Huh?_

A servant, but one more along the lines of a squire considering the amount of shape that he had compared to our own, who _only_ had shape and nothing else, trotted forward with a trunk dragging behind him. He opened the great thing, and the bead-necklace warrior said, "Take your pick."

Since I'd just learned with a sword today, I decided to go in with something different this time. All of the medieval weapons that you see in your books and imaginations - all of them here, sort of. There was definitely a chain with a ball attachment, and a mace with a spiky end; there were short swords, long swords, mid-length swords, straight daggers, curved knives, bows and arrows, even, spears and other staff objects that looked just as deadly and menacing...

I reached for a staff-weapon, with two-thirds wooden shaft and one-third two-and-a-half foot straight blade with a double edge, a black leather grip making me quite the happy little half-a-beastie because I didn't half to worry about damaging the weapon from just _holding_ it. It was an ancient thing; the binding seemed to have become a part of the wood itself. But, it was sturdy and inches thick.

"You will pick that one?" said the laughing warrior, picking something like a broadsword, but with a curving guard. Apparently the rest of his crew were thinking the same thing. "It is heavy!"

I twirled it between my fingers experimentally. "Of course not. It's as light as one of those wands."

They gaped at me, and I took the moment to guess that maybe they hadn't figured out that I'm not a human, and that that weapon probably did weigh a lot to them. I flicked it away with a shrug, and the laughing warrior let it go, too. "Are you going to fight in that?"

"Excellent point," I stated. The laughing warrior clapped his hands again, and another servant of his led me to a sort of outdoor picnic place that you might find in the park with stalls. He handed me some clothing, and I was glad to trade in this rich attire for something more comfortable and durable. There was only one problem; the servant was trained to watch his master change, I suppose, so before I did anything else (yes, VERY self-conscious, I am), I told him to turn around and not gaze upon me.

He complied, if with some confusion. I put on a smaller, much lighter white shirt with a regular brown leather tunic top and a black belt with studded stones of glaze. Removing most of my jewelry, I bundled them up in my clothes and gave them to the servant. "Take these to my servants, and be warned that if you remove a single piece of what is here, I will not hesitate to kill you."

The servant gulped, and judging by his scent, that shifty-way of thinking was banished pretty swiftly. He left in a hurry, and I adjusted my baggy black pants and boots and went back out to meet everyone, picking up my weapon in the process. It was a relief to have all that glaze off of me. All the superfluous items were starting to smother me.

I hefted the weapon (called the 'nahke', pronounced 'NAH - kuh') and faced my opponent.

"What is your name?" I asked suddenly, before I could stop myself. The warriors and Re and Azhra had gathered around in a circle around us to watch from all sides. The laughing warrior tilted his head and smiled at the unexpected question. "Why would you want to know my name?" he inquired, chuckling.

"In the...past, from where I come from," I said carefully, "it was tradition between us...opponents...to tell one another our names during the matches, should one of us be defeated or die during the battle."

There was a ringing silence as they absorbed this.

"They say," I said, trying to cover up the sentimental-sounding statement, "that if you should be defeated or die, you should at least know the name of the person who defeated or killed you." I grinned devilishly.

The laughing warrior suddenly laughed with a heartiness that made everyone present jump. He looked at me and said, "Your's has strange traditions, my friend."

So we agree.

He touched his forehead, and then, after a moment, said, "Chen'x." (Pronounced 'SHIN - ix' or "Chinx/ chenx', 'chenix' or chenex', it goes quite fast and sounds like a curse word, almost. Doesn't matter.)

I raised an eyebrow, but saw that he was smiling.

I mimicked him by touching my own forehead and said, "Remmson."

"Well then, Remmson," he said, taking on a ready stance with his broad-bladed sword (a 'Jirk') and smiling. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"Don't hold back," I chuckled, reminded in an almost painful, happy way of a memory, when Josh and I used to do this.

Chen'x grinned and rushed forward, blade humming, preparing to sing...

I raised my own in two hands and leaped forward to meet it.

--------

**A/N: For some reason, Deviantart (dot) com is not being nice to me. As soon as I figure out how to upload pics, I most certainly will. System, I will defeat you!!! xP**

**Muse: It's sad that you'd be one of the only people to seriously spaz out over something like this, Tetsu...**

**Me: Gah! I SHOULD be upset! I can't color in any of the pics, and on top of that, Deviant won't upload them either! **

**Remmson: So...?**

**Me: That means that I can't put up the super cool picture of SD or you or anything else...(sniffle) AND IT'S A GOOD ONE, TOO!**

**Muse: (pats) There, there, now.  
**


	5. Down the Rabbit Hole

5. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter Five: Down the Rabbit Hole**

**Also entitled, "Shadows of the Past, Part One"  
**

**Preview: _Remmson and Josh reflect on meeting each other for the first time, a long time ago. Josh ends up in an unknown verse and confronts his morphing demon, Remmson fights Chen'x, hangs out at a temple, and attends a cremation. Also, he will be STARKERS...  
_**

**A/N: XO (GASP) OMGREMMSONBUCK-NEKKIDINATUBSQUEE!!!!!  
**

**(Ahem.) I almost forgot. Please note that during this beginning excerpt, it is kinda rough and I should probably push the rating higher, but whatever, you've been warned before. (Also, "-----" stands in place of Remmson and Josh's past names and will be revealed in time.)  
**

**Remmson: (sweatdrops) O.O Fans are gonna see me NAKED in a tub? Why, I oughtta -**

**Muse: (mops up nosebleed) Calm down, Rem, I'm sure she won't go that far... (watches as Tetsuna comes on the verge of a nosebleed as well with an evil grin on her face) ...though I have been wrong before... **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pendragon series and will not in any way use this for profit. But believe me, if I did, I'd have been crucified for my terrible writing.**

**Me: Anyways.**

**To:**

** D C: **_I'm glad that you see me as a competitive writer. Don't tell DJ! He'd find some way or other to sue me and then laugh at me and I'll feel bad and never write again - but thanks a lot for the fabulous review. (SUPERHUGS) You rock, man, you rock..._

**And now, onwards. I promise that in later chapters, good ol' SD will be back. This is not a sole OC fic, after all : D I also promised more insanity as well. For the full summary, go to my account and read it, and I'll try to update it for every chapter. I finally got Deviantart to upload some pictures, so if anyone is interested in seeing how badly I draw as well, go there to mah address or just look up Pendragon an' all that. YAY FOR ME!**

**Muse: Tetsuna is so technologically impaired.**

**Remmson: Maybe you can fix my TV. No matter what I do, it won't work, and the sales-dude told me that it came in high-quality, hot, and all that. Piece of crap; I want to break it but it looks so cool...**

**Muse: O.O**

**Me: ...Yeeeah. One: bite me, muse. Two: ...I think that's a MICROWAVE, Rem...**

**Remmson: ...Really? (shakes the microwave) Well, I never. Guess I'd better find that salesman and tell him so.**

**Muse and I: (gulp) **

**Muse: Yeah, he's taking that way too well. Look at his eyes.**

**Me: Poor salesman; didn't know who 'e was dickin' with.  
**

---------

Halvard, Pete.

At odd times, at odd worlds that stretch beyond my imagination, recollections of the past come to haunt me. Being the type of person to enjoy almost any nightmare because I do not feel the fear of mortals, these rare occurrences happen upon the dead of the darkness, when all things lie still, but the dead past continues its ever-turning in the grave.

The hour in which all but this stands still, in which I am trapped within a world containing the ghosts of the past, wherein the very shadows rise from their skulking places to observe me with keen intensity, I am helpless. I am completely at the mercy of the dark, unable to fight the abstract. The nights of stillness of which the low moans of utter, agonizing pain that comes from no physical wounds builds in my chest and bursts forth from my throat involuntarily, that fills those still nights with a miasma of anguish and sorrow...that wraps me in its opposite cloak and holds me there in the silken folds, bound tightly and yet not bound at all.

My freedom, restrained. My chest and throat vibrating at the sad song without words that fills the corners of the mind and sings down the misty monsters that lurk behind the stars and devour the unlucky stargazer for staring, devour his heart ravenously and begin to gnaw at his soul...

My tattered, wounded soul that is taking an eternity to heal; only a piece of my heart continues to beat within this breast.

It is on nights like these that I remember the shame, the anger, the rage; the sorrow and pain, but most of all...how something on the inside broke. I've been broken before, many times. I don't like to admit it, but I must to keep myself sane and going strong. But every time, I have patched myself up the best that I could and taken another step forward. To what, I don't know. Maybe there is a destiny out there somewhere for me, I'll never know.

But this re-occurring nightmare is like a film in my head, waiting to start the moment I close my eyes and succumb to the darkness as its bitch, and it fucks me hard every time. I hate the darkness and everything about it, but there is an...attachment...that I cannot seem to shake. A habit, an addiction, if you will. The reason why the prostitute goes back for more is not for the benefit of usefulness, but for the personal pleasures. There is something comforting about the dark, even though it is unpredictable. On some nights, I love it to madness and would give myself up to it willingly.

On others, it is overpowering, and betrays me painfully, taking me by force and there's nothing I can do about it, nothing to escape its strong restraints or overwhelming vigor as it takes over my mind, my heart, my soul, and even my body in its entirety...the song I sing on an easy night is far more 'tame' than this. I can hear my moans and screams of torment, and though I want it to stop I know that if it does prematurely, my only lifeline will break and I will forever be lost...

One such nightmare that I am describing is that of a memory from long ago, when I first met Josh. There was only one good feeling throughout all of this, when I was too weak to not feel emotions.

It was hope.

----------------

I'd watched them disappear, one by one, watched them as they appeared and then were dragged off, often to never return.

I'd watched them disappear, some putting up a fight that would get them punished and others that acted as obedient mules.

I remember when I got thrown down here in this pitiful place, something like a spare room or hole if you will. There was no way out of it that I knew of. The most people down there would be at least eight to ten, and not all of them were good. I, scarcely more than just a child, had to find my rank and status on my own amongst them.

Halvard had bought and paid for most of them, and snatched the others himself to compete and be sold underground. I was no one. I was cargo. I was an animal to be shipped from one place to the other, to be trained to do whatever I was told to do.

Anyone with a pulse - crazy people, poor people, homeless people, sick people. Strong, weak, fighters, pacifists. Everyone from all walks of life. The cell's inmates constantly changed; I believe that I was the only one that never went anywhere. For some reason, Halvard had taken a liking to me and even went so far as to pamper me like a pet...even though I didn't want it. I did not want to pay the terrible price for this existence.

"No" was not an answer as cargo.

With his odd devices and shouted commands, sometimes even whispered, he broke me slowly over time to become the wretched thing that I was. When his goons had first picked me up, with me biting and kicking all the way and screaming at the top of my lungs, I refused to eat his rancid food and attacked anyone dumb enough to come near me. As a child, I was nowhere near as deadly as I am today, and I sometimes wish that I had been stronger then.

His employers and supporters apparently liked me too, though I hated them. Halvard was a big man in his early forties or thirties, with a wrinkled brow and evil hands. Some of his teeth were fake and gold, and he always sported jewelry and fine suits. He was illegally, filthy-rich and sitting on top - or below - the world with not a care nor fear. He always watched me from behind the bars or glass whenever his subordinates would 'experiment' with my strengths.

I wish that I had been stronger then.

The time came when I did not know if it were day or night. At times, I would have my own cell with a sliding, iron door, and pace the small space back and forth, back and forth, dropping to all-fours sometimes and even beating at the walls when I became bored. The food got better, lumps of meat used to feed the dogs. Halvard's liking towards me was not good, because I remember the one time that I turned against him...and it was the beginning of my real torture.

He'd come to see me in person, because he could not believe that I was real. He'd reached out his hand and stroked along my hair and face like an animal on the auction block, and I didn't like it.

I bit him.

He didn't hit me.

He shot me.

BLAM!

One moment, brief victory; the next, agonizing pain. It was a steel-tipped dart lodged in my shoulder, fired at point-blank range and hurting like all hell. As my vision faded, I knew that I was being carried into another room altogether, and that my fate would become much worse.

Halvard liked me even more now, and made it apparent.

For two years, my spirit bent and stretched in impossible positions, the strain and pressure pushing and pushing until finally, I snapped. Years of slave-like treatment, vicious rape and harsh commands of torture or killing another had made me into a soulless, empty being that felt nothing but the physical pain inflicted by his powerful master.

And I stayed that way.

My sleeping quarters changed from that nasty cell to his room sometimes, as did my clothes and hygiene to something more comfortable. After every workout and assessment with the other wretched inmates, he'd order that I take a shower and clean up, then go to bed.

I obeyed his every word. Even when he took me in the shower, I knew better than to resist or give any inclination of my bitter, infuriated thoughts or feelings. Pets don't think. Cargo does not think. He said that he liked it when I screamed or gave voice, because mine was beautiful.

This is one reason why I don't like to sing.

I had no will to live, other than to serve. Serving meant no harsh treatment, and maybe some reward in return. A partnership, as he called it. I had no idea that he was lying, though I felt it in my tired body as I lay in his arms after a night of sex, felt it every time I stepped into or walked out of that accursed arena. I _knew._

I wish that I had been stronger then.

I'd always been a fast healer, and maybe he figured that out. During my first days, it ceased to be darts that would shoot me, but actual bullets at actual close-up range. His opponent, Earl, had gotten angry with me and my success in the arenas, and had come down to sabotage Halvard by picking the best - me - and crippling, if not kill me, while no one was around.

Halvard found me at the sound of the shots and apparently appraised my determination; there I lie with one bullet to the face and another to the right side of my chest, my teeth clamped around the blood-soaked throat of Earl. He wasn't dead, but after Halvard's crew got done with him, he would wish that he were.

May they both rot in Hell.

As it were, Halvard himself had arranged everything so that I could heal. I have never figured out why I have such an ability to heal. I, in the last of my conscious state, had plucked the bullets from my body with my long nails, and in hardly four days tops, I was on my way to getting back in the arena. Halvard worked me hard with the other inmates, always exercising, always fighting and baiting me to keep me keen, like a dog.

In fact, for my second year anniversary, he got me something special: a custom-made collar that could only be taken off from someone on the outside, from how the slopes and locks were set. I could not touch it. Even when I was alone and not in pain after one of his drunken demands, I would not dare to touch the cold metal encircling my neck for fear that it might burn me and my resolve to ashes.

Then I met Josh.

It was getting close to my third year anniversary of my enslavement and imminent success in the rings that I got to go and see the new inmates. As the top, it was some strange routine to go in and look them over when they first came in. Halvard suggested testing them by seeing what they knew. If they could dodge my first three deadliest attacks, they were worthy of being in his service.

Anything to please my master.

The collar's latch slid back and the whole thing came free under his grip. Before me stood a boy that didn't look any older than me, with messy white-blond hair and amazing blue eyes. He was short and not much to look at, but it was the way he held himself, as though he had no fear and yet no intention of fighting, that got my attention. But his eyes were just so blue...I could not help but to stare. They were such a contrast from the light brown that I see nowadays - mortal, human.

Of all that had stood up to my 'initiation task', none had come out for the better except for him. He dodged the first three, and not with ease; his dodging was almost entirely on reflex, and he had to mimic my twisting and abnormal random attacks to keep from being cut, but they all did, in the end. This scar was on the back of his shoulder blade when he didn't turn fast enough.

Apparently, Halvard liked him.

Josh and I did not talk to each other, even though he made his way up the ladder on the food chain and got to hang out with me. In the pit, we would never fight each other. There was something in him, behind his eyes, that I knew could break but not without one hell of a fight. I realized something, in that instant:

I didn't want to break him.

Not like everyone else. In that pit, I had torn grown men to pieces with my teeth, smashed the heads of loose women against the walls and made it rain blood on the inside of the stadium. I did not want to see him added to the body count, did not want to see _his _eyes lacking that soul, did not want to see _his_ body limp and unmoving, crushed terribly by my brutal attack.

Needless to say, Halvard wasn't too happy.

He beat us for insubordination, but he eventually got the message. We were to be partners and share the same cell, share the same treatment from Halvard. Josh didn't like it, but he learned fast. The more I looked into his eyes, the more that I hated to admit it, but...he was fading away. It scared me, for some reason, to see it happening to him. Partners, we may have been; social, we were not. Since the day we met, there were no words between us, and yet we always understood what the other implied.

Our nightmares were gruesome. When put in our cell, shivering from the cold, we'd curl up together and keep each other company with our eyes. I liked looking into his, and I guess he felt the same way because he never said anything, just stared back. I could tell that he was pacifistic by nature, but this had brought out a side of him that he never knew existed.

Before he came here, he was not violent, did not have to fight for survival the way the others did.

Before he came here, he was as much a pansy as the next flower, but still holding up against dogs, at least.

Before he came here, he probably had a much better life. I would never know until I asked him about it, but considering he had nightmares _before_ Halvard got to him, I refrained from voicing anything that had to do with his past life, and he returned that same respect - but I could tell he wondered. Often times, he'd stare at me when he thought I wasn't looking, long and intently, as though trying to figure me out. I didn't feel as uncomfortable when he did this than the masters, (namely Halvard) so I just let him stare.

A black mess of hair that was starting to really grow out, longer nails that could not cleave through concrete like they could today, only a few centimeters into the ground; sharper teeth, but not by much, and a scrawny body. That was me, with the odd scar or bruise and the dead brown eyes (yes, they were something around brown or gray. From what Halvard had told me, my eyes were so dead that he could just say they were black as the graves my opponents were dumped in until you shined them in the light. Even then, the reflecting color was hard to identify).

Josh, however, was thin as a scarecrow and about as scrawny, and sort of awkward with his larger hands and feet. Whereas I was just gangly and a little more filled out than the others because I was under Halvard's "protection", he was new and just barely getting into his own bones. After he'd been washed down and doing a little more than just shivering from being cornered by Halvard in the shower, like I was, they hadn't really left him any clothes. When I'd given my torn, form-hugging sweater to him, it covered to a few inches above his knees but hung about a size or two too big.

I gave him my other change of clothes when we got back to the comfortable spare room at Halvard's pad, and it fit, for the most part. Like all of the other clothes, they had to be durable for sleeping and performing in, which meant getting them off the backs of the defeated opponents as a prize. After his first match, he'd turned his nose up at such a rule, but Halvard's assistant handler for him told him that he'd better take them so that they didn't have to struggle with the corpse unless he wanted to freeze to death in the cell with the inmates.

No, he wasn't violent at first. But as time wore on, he learned what I had learned: just go with it, whatever they told you to do. Never disobey. His blue eyes began to lose their soul, little by little, and I felt as though I were a part of it because I could not stop it. At odd times, it would scare me to feel my own mind and conscience rising from the dead to confront me and torment me for not helping him, but what could I do?

It was best to remain brainless.

When Halvard went into meetings to put us on display, or whenever he was making deals, he didn't have us stand in front of him like bodyguards; no, he let us keep that part of our mind, the type that turned us into primitive male animals that knelt or lay down at their master's side, and he'd treat as such. Since Josh was a newbie, he had to either kneel or crouch or sit. I was well into the business, though not quite a veteran. I had, however, earned the term **elite** despite my apparent age and had every right to shit on the floor if I felt like it. I got to lay down on my stomach and even rest my chin on my arms if at ease.

Halvard would sit down in one of those chairs, and I'd always sit closest to him and sometimes lean my head on his leg. His fingers, decorated with rings, would thread lightly, yet intensely through my hair in return, and as much as I hate to admit it, when we locked eyes, there was a bond of trust. Like that between a man and his dog, it bordered to that of dying, in the dog's case.

Said dog was not in his right mind when his body agreed to such an unspoken partnership. All this dog knew was to do what you were told and don't do anything to displease. This one knew that his body did not belong to him, that his mind did not belong to him. This dog was a dog, a bull, a pet...nothing more, and nothing less. Halvard knew it and used it to his advantages.

The nights had gone eventually from painful-enough-to-die to feeling it at a distance, to where I automatically accepted him but stared off into space.

"Like fucking a corpse," I'd overheard him say to one of the higher-ups, but then an opposing master had said that that was what they were supposed to be like. No mind, no soul. If they did, they'd get out of hand. Keeping them dominated and screwed actually kept them somewhat healthy (if you weren't diseased or anything), majorly disciplined, and 'loyal'. They'd revert to not being human, but some other animal in the theory that one wouldn't feel so bad about kicking them around.

It had become a routine at unpredictable times, but if I had to guess, then I'd say occurrences happened mostly at night. Ever since the incident in the shower that had left me confused and wondering, I was commanded to his quarters if only I did as I was told. The nights could vary between harsh and gentle depending on his moods and alcohol intake. "You'll enjoy it," he'd said, planting a trail of light kisses from my hip bone to my neck and extracting a soft moan from my throat, my face burning. It would not be until much later, when I was older, to figure out why I felt as though something was wrong with this, though I was doing what I was told. Only Halvard could command me as such, but every time and with every thrust into me, I'd forget briefly for what felt like an eternity of pleasure and pain that I could not escape, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't dare resist him lest I make things worse.

My first in his bed, he was surprisingly more gentle that the average violence (which meant not at all). On the first, terrible, freezing shock; the second, horrendous pain that I could not locate inside of me, burning yet cold in my gut; the third had the abstract _twist_ within me, making me see stars - never have I ever felt more unable to control my body than now. The springs creaked and groaned, ...sounds came from my mouth that for some reason, shamed me, but I was doing what I was told ...

The screaming that only made him become more brutal with every painful thrust that I met with my own reflexively bucking hips - I could taste the booze on his mouth as he crushed his lips to mine, tackling my tongue and locking us together in a heated passion, fire pressing to my body and burning me, but not killing me... I could not stop as my body betrayed me, writhing out of my control to his vicious rhythm and evil hands, hungry mouth and raging lust in his eyes. I was supposed to keep my arms at my sides, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't, they held onto him tightly in an attempt to escape the inevitable pain; my mouth broke from his to draw in oxygen and cry out louder with every invasion -

"Sing for me," he'd breathe. "Don't be afraid; sing..."

- It all ended in minutes, agonizing minutes later in a flood of something hot within me and on my stomach. We both lay there, panting, until he got up and left me, empty and cold, would not return for the rest of the night. Curling my tired body into a ball under the sheets, I felt my eyes blink water down my face. I wrapped my arms around myself and eventually fell asleep, only to wake slowly and sluggishly with the remaining ache inside me and salt on my lips.

I was scared, confused, and for the entire Halvard-free week, could not look in the mirror at myself. But I couldn't figure out _why_.

Every time I caught my reflection, I'd flinch away and feel my face burn. Whenever I was alone and had time to be lost within my own head, I'd feel as though thousands of bugs were crawling around my flesh, feel - _unclean_ - and found myself in the habit of brushing myself off more than ever. Any time that I was offered a shower token, I'd scrub until my skin turned pink and was spotless, but not matter how hard I tried, I could _not_ get the feeling out from under my skin...

Sadly, I would never figure out this extension of my enslavement until much, much later, whereas I was blamed for being a...blamed for doing what I was told.

I did not want to be around that evil, disgusting man; every moment of my time sitting next to him or against him made me sick. On odd nights, in which I'd eventually ceased to pass out and scream as much, I'd feel the wrongness slipping away. _He owns you_, my mind reasoned. _In more ways than one._

But after Josh would come back, his screams still ringing in my ears as I lay beyond the door in the main room next to the table, his skin would be flushed but cold and clammy, sweat running down his face and mingling with his tears. I remember that on his first week with Halvard, he did like I did and sat on his knees for about a week. Every time he got up, he'd be unsteady on his legs and often just collapse where he stood in order to get some rest from walking ten steps.

My emotions grew.

On his first night, after Halvard had left, I went into the room to check on him. I had grown accustomed to the heavy scent in the air, but it was mixed with his own and the difference was noticeable. He was there, still hacking up whatever Halvard made him swallow, eyes blinded with hot tears and shivering.

I picked him up from where I could see he'd tried to get to the door, but failed on his weak legs, and he struggled, mistaking me for Halvard. I growled low in my chest on impulse, and amazingly, he calmed down and sobbed brokenly into my shoulder. Feeling an intense ache in my chest, I set him down on the bench, changed the bedding, then laid him down onto it. He curled up under the covers, eyes red from crying. Giving in, I slid in next to him and he held onto me as though his life depended on it.

I remember in that dark hour, as we fell asleep on each other's eyes, that I would protect him and show him the ropes. I would not fail him.

When the battles came around, I showed him how it was done. We communicated like animals, but with some universal signing; it was best to keep things short and simple and to the point. Halvard had, as I matured, resorted to giving short commands. If he said "Swift", then that would mean to make things so short that there's technically no fight. If he said "Have fun" or "Show time", it meant to put on a show that lasts for more than twenty seconds, as bloody as possible.

His first battle was much like mine - don't think, just defend yourself. Like me, he'd killed his opponent on accident. Purely by survival-instinct, he broke the guy's neck and stood there in the pit, dazed, staring at what he'd done. I congratulated him inwardly, for it was a good kill for a newbie. Who knew he had that much force behind his punches?

Halvard approved as well, because he appointed me to teach him everything I knew.

My first battle had been against a fully grown man with a knife big enough to cut my arm off. Completely on survival impulse, I discovered my power. My intention was only to shove him away with one hand; I was on my butt on the floor and looking up at a looming shadow with a gleaming blade about to come down on my face. My hand went _through_ him, fingers together and nails straight, impaling him on my arm.

Until that point, I'd never seen so much blood and gristle except for in my dreams.

No matter how I would have liked to not do it again, my body _wanted_ to do it again...wanted to, and _badly_.

Halvard encouraged it, and the more I practiced, the further I rose in the lists. Josh had dealt such a blow to his opponent's face that not only did it shatter, his neck snapped back at several miles an hour. In other words, he was deader than a doll. He was terrified at what he'd done, but like me, could not place _why_ we had such feelings - and as Halvard fed off of that too, we began to like fighting, serving to fight...

We were comrades. I would do everything else for Halvard, even give up my body a thousand times over. But the one thing I would not, could not do, was hurt or kill Josh. He returned the same feelings, and before we knew it, my fourth year of service and still no real words between us, we were the best of friends. We trained together, fought together, lay on the floor after getting screwed by the master together, died a hundred times over together. One did not get in trouble without the other, and one did not get rewarded without the other. Halvard saw that he had two real moneymakers on his hands and decided that he'd never sell us. He knew us too well, and would probably cry to see us go.

This existence was something that I could have lived with for the rest of my short life, for I knew nothing else, nothing more and nothing less. There is always something that gets in the way. Before all of this and my time in "service", I did not know of anything else out there besides this world. But there was something that even Halvard could not control:

I was getting bigger.

Being on top of the "food-chain" usually means better treatment, although you still wind up being your master's bitch. Being at the top meant better sleeping quarters, better food, better training hours and equipment, better clothes - the like. Halvard's whores, the prostitutes that hung around and felt somewhat sorry for us (ages eight to thirty), even gave us a few private sessions where they'd teach us how to read. We were interested in the scribbles that held so much meaning, even going as far as reading over Halvard's shoulder before we went to sleep. When one of them scrounged up a dictionary and a book called _Robinson Crusoe_, Josh and I all but devoured it.

It seemed that this such a man was castaway like us.

I knew what it was like to be waiting for your ship to come in, and you're standing in the middle of nowhere.

The only difference was that I did not have a home to return to, nor his personality. It gave me the slightest sliver of hope that maybe I'd be rescued, too.

Little did I know that I would be...but not until much later.

The Inspectors came around to check on how we were doing, with their little assistants scribbling on clipboards. Josh and I were told to stand in front of them and strip down. Josh had looked at Halvard, then at me, and I only shrugged and did as I was told. He followed my lead, and soon the two of us were standing there, nude and in the cold, trying not to shudder and wait for the inspection to start.

One of them was assigned to the both of us, and I saw Josh bite his lip as he fought the revulsion of being pawed over by the Inspector. I was used to this by now, and even the comments. "I'm telling you, Pete, they're gonna be as tall as you in about another year or two, give or take. ----- here, looks like he's grown a few inches in the past year alone. What've you been feedin' 'im?"

I could swear that I saw Halvard's mind think back to the time when I first came here and didn't eat. Everyone was starting to get a little worried about me dying in my cell because Halvard had spent a lot of money on me, even though I was treated worse than shit, and they didn't want to face his wrath. Only until after my first few fights and total lapse into zombie-mode did they figure out why, though I bet they were wishing that they'd never found out - the animalistic ways of my body had gotten the better of me again, and I'd devoured half of my dead opponent on the spot before they could do anything about it. From that point on, when I wouldn't eat anything else, they resolved to just toss the bodies to me. I was a big help with the Dumpers.

"Other opponents," was the simple answer, and though my examiner blinked, he went with it to check my mouth.

"Open up."

I did.

He stared for a moment, then said, "Wider."

I did, but he hooked a part of my lip with his gloved finger and dragged it back over my teeth. I noticed that this made my mouth _much_ bigger than it appeared.

"Christ, are these real?" he said, dragging his thumb carefully on the pointy endings of my teeth and wiggling a few experimentally.

"Very real," said Halvard darkly. "I found that out by accident, but I've learned to use the other one for that now."

(He was talking about making us 'eat' certain parts of him - dick, tongue, whatever. At least he didn't blame me for that one when he found out about these bad boys in my mouth, like he did the others (albeit a little too late). As long as I didn't bite down, I was okay, but since that little accident that I smirk about whenever the thought arises to me now, he'd only been really careful about kissing. Shoving your tongue down my throat with all those fangs was not a good idea, but better and not as humiliating as what _else_ he'd tried to earlier. Even when he kissed me then, he had to be careful about not damaging his tongue.)

The Inspector peered down my throat, his buddy took some notes, and then he started on my ears, nose, and eyes.

"Like peering down wells," he said. "You did a good job breaking this one, Pete." I felt him shiver involuntarily as he looked away and ran his fingers over my face and through my hair. "But it's hard to tell what breed you've got here. Hair's like a mustang's, skin like a zombie. He'd be ridiculously good-looking if we got him some proper threads, but I honestly can't tell what race he originated from. Seems like a mix of everything, and partially..._not_ human. ...Tch, looks like a fuckin' angel-turned-demon. I can see why you can't resist him."

Halvard grunted, but I couldn't tell if that was in compliance or a "whatever". The Inspector finally tore his eye from my face and checked the rest of me, feeling my biceps, ribs, chest, and on downwards. "From what I can tell, he's not in 'perfect-perfect' shape, but it's great nonetheless. Tad bit on the scrawny side, though, 'cause I can count his ribs without trying. Hm, flat stomach, solid muscles, battle armor for skin (I don't think I'd be able to cut him with a regular knife)...nice groove on the hips, leg muscles seem to be well in shape...I'm guessing about two percent, if virtually no body fat, but those eyes up there look like there's even less brain activity. I mean, no one's home."

"----- is nowhere near retarded," said Halvard. "His strategy and skill in the arena is something to behold. It's as though he knows what I'm thinking in a situation, and he'll carry out whatever command. I even found him reading over my shoulder one night, though, given his background, he should not be able to at all."

"He _does_ look a little bit like a pansy, though," said the Inspector, watching for a reaction in my eyes, but I had zoned out long ago and was only concentrated on not moving and breathing. "I take that back. He's just a handsome cadaver." His hands moved my legs apart, but I was used to this, too. "How many times have you been going at him, Pete?"

"Enough," said Halvard. "But he always was a fast-healer. Within a week or two he's bounced back entirely and ready for another round of hard ones. His stamina is incredible."

"Range?"

"Depends on _his_ moods. Ten to forty-five minutes tops, which is saying a lot from someone like him."

"_His_ moods? He's got all the personality of a brass lamp."

"No; like any pet that's been around for a while, he starts to pick up on something like a personality. He's so quiet that if you weren't around for our little sessions, you'd think he was a mute. Hell, ever since I got that other one, they've been the best of buddies but haven't spoken a word since they met, about a year or two ago."

"His vocal cords didn't look damaged at all when I checked."

"They're not, but if he ever does talk again, I wouldn't be surprised if his voice was really hoarse. He can scream or sing when he wants to. Beautiful tones, he has."

"Well," said the Inspector, "The notes are finished on him and I'm drawing a conclusion. So far, it's really good, but I don't think you'll be able to control him for much longer."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm guessing he just hit puberty a year and a half ago. Everyone knows that teenagers love to rebel under stress, and his age looks between twelve and fourteen. How long have you had him?"

"Almost a full four years now."

"Jesus. And you've kept him in line the whole time? No problems?"

"After we figured out how to feed him and how to interpret his moods after being broken, it was pretty easy. ----- obeys only me. He's like a loyal puppy."

"He ain't a puppy no more, I can guarantee that," said the Inspector with a laugh. "Furrin' out down there, nice trail on his stomach; even his hair is starting to grow out a bit, it goes past his shoulders and hangs in his face. Filling out a bit more too, but I think he's going to stay scrawny for a while. Keep him exercised, and if you're already fucking him now, do it more. I wasn't kidding about teenagers. Their hormones start to bounce around out of control, and they get ideas. Like free will. Keeping them screwed keeps them in line and automatically in shape."

"So I've heard," said Halvard boredly. "Anything else?"

"Actually...what are these?" said the Inspector, pointing out a few strange marks on my skin. "They almost look like knife wounds, but healed over blue."

"I'd been wondering that since I got him," said Halvard. "Apparently, they're just birthmarks or old tattoos. I don't think even he knows, and if he did, I'm certain he'd never tell."

"Hm." The Inspector reached into his kit and grabbed a few items. I felt him working into meat just above my hip and cleaning it up with antiseptic and a bandage. "I've installed the chip, and tomorrow we'll replace the bar-code. Anything on your other one?"

The other guy inspecting Josh (assistant) showed him his clipboard, and my Inspector went over it with keen interest. "Hmm, this one too. You're gonna have your hands full, Pete."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

"The chip is installed in the other one, too. It's a locater, should help if they should ever run off or get stolen. I don't know if this one's eyesight is fading or not, but the color in his irises are definitely changing. It seems like a seasonal change, but I'm not sure...I know that _he_'s definitely going to be a rake for the rest of his life, but he's in better shape than when he first got here. He doesn't have that snap-him-with-my-finger-like-a-twig look anymore. Do you want a collar fashioned for him, too?"

"That would be appropriate. ----- has been learning from ----- for a while now, and well. I think it would be right to have them match, brothers as they appear."

Halvard gave a slight inclination of his head, and I growled low, making the inspectors jump. Josh looked for a confirmation in my eyes, got it, and we both started to dress. That floor was cold, and I was all too happy to be strapped back into harness, my ripped, over-sized sweater being immensely welcomed by me as I slid it over my head. I heard Josh hiss through his teeth softly, apparently as pleased as I was.

"So it _does_ make a sound," said the other Inspector, chuckling.

"That's how they 'talk'," said Halvard, "and Lord knows that they don't do enough of it. They'll just look at each other, and it's almost as though they're reading each other's thoughts. I've never seen a better team."

"Almost feral," said the Inspector. "I'm surprised he didn't bite me when I looked in his mouth."

"He would have, a few years back, but as long as I tell him what to do, he'll do it. He trusts me."

I trusted him.

Josh trusted him.

We _were_ a great team.

However, it was the beginning of the end. Not that what the Inspector said would really help; it wasn't entirely teenage hormones that rescued us, but an entirely different force that came in the form of a very tall man out to purchase a servant four years later.

But that's another story. I found myself thinking back to _Robinson Crusoe_ often, and whispering in the hour in which all but this stands still, in which I am trapped within a world containing the ghosts of the past, wherein the very shadows rise from their skulking places to observe me with keen intensity...

"Where is _my_ ship..."

------

**Gan' Go: The World Between**

Light. Nothing but bright, white light. Like standing in a white room with blasting bulbs, but endless, with no walls available to be seen and no ceiling, no floor.

Josh could see all of this, feeling as though he were floating, but could not feel or see his body. He was unnervingly calm, though he thought that he should at least be doing a little more than just hyperventilating in such an experience.

But no. It was an..._open_ feeling, in which _he_ was spread out across the mind's eye, scattered across space and time itself...

There were sweet sounds, like wind chimes, bouncing off of the open space, but feeling like so much more than just sounds; the vague feeling of falling, but slowly, gently...

A multi-colored smudge began to appear on what he would assume was the corner of his right eye. This smudge began to grow and shift shape, forming a spiral down - not that he could tell which way any direction was in now. It all seemed to have been lost, along with his ability to keep track of time and seconds. This shifting mass began to warp, and Josh felt a slight itch on his ankle - when he realized that that was impossible.

It was a mass of colorful particles coming together, and little by little, he began to regain feeling in his limbs as the particles joined together and took shape. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but definitely not overly welcome, either. There must be something about having your very atoms reconstructed before you as you're moving through space and time that kind of takes that bit of 'fun' away, but Josh was not complaining.

The feeling of weightlessness continued, and he noticed that, now back in his body, it was completely different. Something was either there or missing, but he could not place what it was.

Suddenly, the _floor_, or the space beneath him, opened up like an iris of red and filled the "room", the sweet notes becoming harsh and almost backwards. Something was sucking him down, and the red light enveloped him completely...

...And it all stopped.

----

**Unknown**

Josh was gently deposited onto the ground, where his legs immediately collapsed beneath him. His face was pressed into the grass, lungs trying to take in air from his re-instated panic-attack and his mind whirling, trying to figure out what had happened. He tried to breathe in the scents and pin-point them, as Remmson had shown him, but they were all so unfamiliar that he went into a mind-lock. From the corner of his eye, he could see his arm next to him, and blurry as his vision was, he could see streaks of black, like tiger stripes.

He closed his eyes and awoke again, what felt like minutes later, and tried to get up, though succeeded in tottering unsteadily where he stood and coming back down to rest on his haunches. This was good enough, so he looked around to try and get his bearings and almost gasped aloud. Indeed, though, his mouth fell open in shock anyway.

_What...where the hell am I?!_

Closing his eyes and taking steady, deep breaths, he counted to ten, and then tried again.

There was no change. When he pinched himself, and nothing happened, he was stunned into the realization that he was _not_ home, a concept far too large for him to grasp. Standing again, he forced himself to stay vertical and took a look around him, eyes wide and hands shaking.

Plains.

Nothing but endless, rolling plains.

The grass came in every color, mostly yellow, but _endlessly._ The grass here had to be literally blue. The whole place looked like a wasteland with bushes that resembled shoots of floral spikes coming out in every which-direction, and sparse, leafless trees that looked like they were made _dead_ on purpose.

He'd been standing in a blue ring (contrasting from the grass) where he'd arrived, and made sure to stay in it, but at least peek over to see what else could be seen. In his eyes, this was...perfect. The sky, not unlike the one back home, was light blue, but shifting along the spectrum in afternoon tones. The clouds were cirrus, mimicking the background colors in a sort of matching or reverse pastel, but Josh's eyes widened further when he saw actual planets and moons beyond them, close enough to take up a small part of the sky.

And there was no sun to be found, but a _sun-band_ to his left that stretched across the sky like a rainbow. Josh had never seen anything like it before, and spent another good forty minutes on his back within the circle, staring up at the sky and watching curious white birds flap by.

_Wait,_ he thought with a jolt, peaceful resolve wavering for a moment, _this - am I...dead?_

He glanced at the spot on his wrist where he'd pinched himself and made a face. _Not unless a dead person can still feel that and have it leave a mark._ His eyes traveled to his left fore limb, and he gazed at the ring upon his finger with wonder. It was silent now, though glowing enthusiastically with the same little bubble of light that he'd followed here. Eyes moving up his arm, he saw the stripes and was reminded of Remmson's, except these were not blue. They were turning from black and smudgy to a shade of violet that even he had to admit was somewhat stunning. It just sort of melded with his skin, like a birthmark or tattoo, and didn't feel any different than before.

Testing it out, he rolled the ball in his shoulder and stretched his full arm and fingers until he was satisfied, then stood up again and prepared to start walking.

_I can't stay here forever,_ he reasoned, and, without another thought, started walking forward.

He knew something was up the moment he took the first ten steps.

There was a rumbling sort of growl from behind him, but when he turned to see what it was, he didn't see anything.

Josh held as still as possible, nostrils flaring, ears acute, breathing steady. He had no doubt that whatever he heard was not a hallucination. Something was watching him, following him...challenging him. The sun-band dragged his shadow behind him... his fingers flexed habitually, and he prepared to get into a defense stance when he heard it again.

His eyes roved, using their peripheral vision, but so far, nothing.

_There!_

- Something moving through the grass, so fast that he would have taken it for a rabbit or striking snake, but _much_ too large -

- He turned -

- And came face to face with his _shadow._

It looked like the things he'd seen in the alley, but not as big, not as transparent. No, this was a full-blown patch of black against the bright background, in more than just a corporeal and humanoid form. It was in his shape, but with blazing yellow eyes that seemed like pin-pricks on that dark mass, and slightly over-sized hands with points on them that resembled dinner-knives to Josh.

Where the mouth would have been, there wasn't one; but as Josh dodged the flurry of blades, he saw the thing crouch down and a mouth _appear_, a terrifying white grin composed of dripping fangs that took up most of the blank face and a long, red tongue that would probe outward slowly and taste the air. It circled him on fours, lifting its right "paw" and baring the steel black claws as it tried to find an opening.

Josh felt that he knew this creature from somewhere, because he did not fear it. He was alarmed, to say the least, yet he felt as though he knew it all too well. Still, he knew what it was capable of. It no longer scared him, but he knew what it was made of and its intentions. During his days growing up with Remmson, he'd heard it whisper often in the back of his mind and accompany him in his death matches against other servants, other opponents. He'd heard it snarl as it grew more powerful, felt it roar when the only person close to him was being hurt, felt it fight like never before when he could not stop the events.

He knew it all too well.

Josh moved out of his defense position and locked eyes with the demon that danced before him.

"What do you want?" he said. He didn't want to fight this thing if he had to. How it could have separated, though, into an actual form, was beyond him. Of course, he wasn't really expecting an answer, but...

**"You...I want you..."** came the hoarse whisper. The mouth barely moved, but the statement was clearly voiced. **"...Just you."**

Josh's brow furrowed.

It could _talk_.

The creature had strange, long spines protruding from its back that loafed on gravity everytime it moved as it danced in place in front of him, anticipating.

"What do you want me for?" he inquired further. "Why do you want me?"

The Darkness wheezed excitedly and spoke again in its whisper, **"I want to return...I need you to survive! To live...!"**

So _that_ was what was missing. Josh had felt it when he'd arrived.

His inner darkness had been separated from him.

"You can stay with me if you want," said Josh tentatively. "Can you survive outside?"

The demon bounced in place again. **"I can survive here in this world as a separate being...I...can stay with you?" **it asked, pausing. Now that it wasn't moving so enthusiastically, Josh didn't have to look at it cross-wise. "Of course. Just don't do anything stupid. This place...is unfamiliar to me. I don't know why I'm here, but...I kind of like it. I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders." He snorted. "I feel dead."

**"We died long ago,"** said the demon, sitting at his feet.

Josh looked down at him. "What did you attack me for, by the way?"

**"To get under your skin,"** the demon replied. **"But it does not seem to work here."**

"Well, if you're going to stay, I guess I'd better give you a name. What are you?"

**"I am...a Contrast," **wheezed the demon. **"I am born of the darkness within human hearts, but made real and into being when combined with negative particle force through a drome. Though...I do not understand why I am so real...by rights, you should be dead."**

In short, Josh had no idea what the Contrast had just said, but he did pick up on it being a dark side of people that appeared only in this world, and that it wasn't supposed to have happened. "Let's see, then." He sat down Indian-style next to the wheezing monster and ran through his head for a list of names.

"Hold on - do you already have a name?" Josh asked. The Contrast looked at him, and Josh felt the push of a far-off memory coming to his mind, but it wasn't a pleasant one. As he looked into the monster's eyes, he realized that he did indeed have a name...it was just up to him to say it aloud.

The only problem was that the name brought on too terrible of a memory to voice aloud.

**"I do. But for the sake of the both of us, give me another."**

Josh's heart ceased its quickened pace, and he immediately shook the cold feeling away. "Uh, yeah...um. You're negative, the opposite of light; so I guess that would make you..." he looked it over and noted the details, though looked away at the spines on its back. "I've got it. Your new name is Raven."

**"'Raven'?"**

"Yeah, that's my name back at the Infinite." He stopped. "Man, I wonder if they know I'm gone...?"

--------------

**Denduron (continued)  
**

About an hour and thirty minutes after Chen'x challenge, three-fourths of the warriors were panting heavily and sitting down. Chen'x was not among them, but he looked ready to drop at any second. I twirled the _nahke_ deftly and put it over my shoulder, calling out, "I think I'm going to back out now."

"Why?" gasped Chen'x, staggering. His _jirk_'s point had already fallen to the ground from fatigue. "Are you feeling defeat?"

"Actually, no. I'm feeling kind of...dare I say it...bored."

Way to go, Remmson. Can you be any more blunt and insulting?

Chen'x snorted good-naturedly and plopped down in the grass. "Well then. The victory still goes to you. I can't believe it - we ganged up on you and _still_ you're not tired!"

I shrugged. "I've had some practice." I drove the end of the _nahke_ into the ground, stretched and nodded to him. "You fought well, though. I certainly got my exercise today!"

God I'm such a liar. Well, sort of. Technically, I'm too arrogant to lie, and I _did_ get exercise today...it just didn't feel like it. Hn, maybe they don't need to know that then. Either way, this makes me still _not_ a liar! Huzzah!

(But the false display of light breathing was a trick, yes, I admit it. I am one bad cookie.)

Azhra was breathing lightly too, for he and Re had eventually jumped into the fight. I still had the feeling that they were holding back. Every time I saw Re just stop whatever she was doing, or make an opposite call in the middle of a fight, I just got the strangest feeling that they were only half-assing it. But Azhra was beaming at me, and Re (cold bitch that she is) only inclined her head slightly.

Hn. I wanted to go find Nails or Kroma, to occupy the remainder of my time. The sun had only moved a fraction during our training session, but enough to throw out some good shade under a few trees. My servants took my clothes, and they followed me to look for Nails...in which he found me. Nearly running me over in the stone hallway, he stopped and mumbled an apology. His eyes were very vacant and still somewhat pink.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry," he said louder, though he needn't have done so. I was just trying to bait him, so I jabbed him in the ribs with my finger (carefully) and said, "Can we finish up that tour? We almost got to see the temples."

I was hoping that the tour would make his mind come back to reality, and maybe distract me as well. I'm not sure what it was, but at that moment, I felt as though something was happening, far away, that concerned me. It was almost something bordering on panic, but I put it down as paranoia and concluded that if Nails said no, I'd drag him by his hair anyways.

Fortunately, he wasn't that much of a wallower (thank goodness, because any more hesitating seconds and I would have been forced to do so) and complied. In the hallway, no one was watching or around, so he helped me change back into the clothes I had on, and, sending the servants back to our room upstairs, we made our way out of the palace and down into the plaza. It was no trouble for me, considering I just picked him up and jumped off, but poor Nails was still looking a tad bit rattled from the experience.

I guess he wasn't used to the thrill. Ah well. He was still shaking as we got to walking, and I made a mental note to do it again soon to stop him from thinking overly-emotional thoughts. Besides, I loved his reaction. To a people that has never and probably is never going to fly, this must have seemed impossible.

(Me bad cookie all da way.)

People were still the same as when we left them, but more sluggish. The day was almost at its end, and not crowded by about four-hundred people out of thousands. Still, it was a significant difference, and Nails and I made it through the Plaza and streets much faster than we had earlier.

The Temples ranged from tall and slim to short and squat, though all of them were careful to stay under the size of the palace. There were four major ones that surrounded the palace (which was in the center of the city, of course), each of them for a different element or god or whatever. All I knew was that they were huge and I wanted to jump off of them.

But, according to Nails, that wouldn't be good. Just yet.

So we weaved our way down streets in which there was a temple every time you looked in either direction. One of them actually took me by surprise, and since it was the only one we really went inside, I'm not sure if I can say that it was my favorite. The moment you walk up the nine flat marble steps and walk into the curtain of woven lotus-like flowers, you leave the rest of the world behind and seemingly step into the cold, but the refreshing, like taking a dive into a pool at midnight with clear starry skies and the smells of the pristine around you. The priest, apparently not knowing who I was, welcomed us inside warmly

The floor was the same, but it was so dark inside that even I could not see. I'm sure I could if I really tried, but I wanted to relax this time and actually accept any surprises that came my way without guessing them first (for once), so I let the darkness be. Besides, why would I need to see when the place was already being illuminated by _countless fireflies?_

They mostly congregated on the ceiling, glowing and blinking, one section of light winking out to be replace a previously darker spot with a bright advancement.

We took off our shoes and left them at the entrance, and we proceeded barefoot along the cold marble floor through the petals of thousands of soft flowers that hardly made a sound as they were jostled. As we walked, some of the fireflies alighted on our clothes, and I blew one off of my nose (it was BLINDING me). Nails had instinctively grabbed my wrist and led me along to the middle of the vast space, large as a football field, and we sat down on what seemed to be cushions.

I stretched out my arm in front of me and felt something like a very small table of stone. The light from the insects illuminated two transparent globes on the ends of wooden poles. Getting the idea, we stood up and made a game of catching a few and putting them inside. I slammed my palms together ("You're supposed to catch them, not kill them, Remmson," Nails chuckled) and caught only two at once. Smiling ruefully at how I used to do this with the gang back home, I cupped my hands together and peeked inside to be rewarded with the winking glow of the two latched onto their prison walls.

I turned them over to one hand and stuck them inside the globe carefully to join the others. When we had one lantern full, Nails stood it up in a slot next to the stone table, where it winked and blinked like a lazy lizard in the sun.

We started on the second one as we munched on more of the delicious food that Nails had brought with him from the Bazaar and watched the rest of the insects loafing through the darkness. I... I wasn't sure why, but I was becoming slowly aware of emotions pressing in on me. I was taken aback because they weren't someone else's. They were my own.

I began wishing that I could share this with someone, so that they could just_ see this, _wishing that I could at least take a picture and bring it home with me to show the others -

- Home. The key word. I didn't originally consider anywhere my home, but here I realized that home was wherever the gang was. Or just me and Josh.

No. At one time, that had been true. But now there was Dwight and thirty others (and counting), and I realized that it wouldn't be the same without all of them. Especially Lace. Her sister not being there was bad enough, but we were slowly becoming whole again.

They were my pack, and I'd selfishly forgotten about them during my stay here. I'd abandoned them, abandoned Josh, without a second thought. And for what? Thrills? Ruling a world in which people were nice to me and no one was trying to tell me what to do? There was severe inequality there that I should have seen beforehand, and I felt awful, sitting there in the dark, surrounded by a bunch of bugs and a cold stone floor.

Then I felt Nails touch my shoulder, and understood something that I thought was beneath my understanding, but once again had miscalculated. Nails placed what looked like a small seashell on the table and closed his eyes briefly, then looked back at me. Our eyes held the others, and I saw the meaning behind it all. Reaching for one of my many pieces of glaze in my jewelry, I placed it on the table as well.

The sacrifice of something not just close to you, but of something you love. Love in return for love, the most powerful force imaginable. The shell smelled like his mother, and I guessed that it had once belonged to her. I could smell the salt of his tears in the darkness, still unshed and reddening his eyes, and sense the whirl of emotions within him that he desperately fought to keep subdued.

"You don't have to," he whispered. "After all, you are not human."

"You don't have to be human to love someone," was my curt reply, and I stood up, stretched, and headed for the way out. I made a mental note to come back to this place some time later, but for now, it was time to leave. I had accomplished what I'd set out to do; the turmoil that was threatening to squeeze out of his skin was dissipating, leaving only brief confusion and a flat, if not full, satisfaction. He'd be all right now.

We headed back to the palace (I jumped up again, and since Nails was warned this time, was not holding on so tightly that he'd break my ribs. By about, what, three muscle tightenings...) and cleaned up for the cremation, since it was almost sunset (how would you make that plural?). He sat down on the 'sofa' in the front room for a moment, and I let him be alone with his thoughts, heading for the bathroom.

The servants filled up the tub by turning the faucets, though I could have done it myself - they were strangely eager to please, ESPECIALLY Cerith, who kept blushing and batting her eyelashes as though I were the best-looking guy she'd ever seen (which I probably was, the rest weren't really lookers at all). They left towels and soap and everything...and lingered.

I gave them a look that made them scatter, although Cerith _did_ hesitate.

"_Scat_," I said, and she scampered out of there.

I waited a few moments to check if I was alone, then, satisfied, patiently figured my way out of my clothes and slid into the steaming water with a contented sigh. After everything I'd been through in the past few days, a hot bath was at the top of a list of rewards. No one can really understand what it's like to go so long without a bath. Even if you don't like taking them, when you start to sweat and build up debris and really stink, a bit of a scrub-down sounds like heaven.

I felt kind of soft now that I was in here. I use the word scarcely since it's a term that Kitty's come up with to explain what it's like after she shaves her legs or something. According to Kitty, taking a bath with newly shaved legs feels far better than taking it with winter-warmers. That sort of...naked feel, I guess. All I knew was that at the moment, I _was_ naked and enjoying it immensely.

I took the time to soak off the dead skin, then scrubbed it away with one of the soft cloths on the ledge. I didn't bother with my hair this round, but kept it tied up in its braid. I closed my eyes after a bit and snapped them open again as the servants ducked in and dumped the water.

I was about to protest, but half the freaking pool was already gone and already being replaced with new water, starting the ride all over again. They scurried out again, leaving me slightly baffled, but I went with it. The water was too luxurious to worry about anything right now. I closed my eyes again.

I guess, during my blissful thoughts, that I might have cat-napped a little. It was all just so good, and it made me miss home even more. It was only when I was in that temple that I realized how far away I was. (Okay, I still don't know, but the thought stands - I'm very far away.)

My tongue ran over my lips, and I stopped thinking about it. Just here, now, deliciously hot water...

The spot just above my temples quivered, and I've always considered that that was the animal in me, perking up its ears, since it only did that when something or danger was closer than it was supposed to be and my other senses hadn't already picked it up. That's me: if all other five fail, use the sixth sense.

I opened my eyes in time to see none other than Seign himself slip into the water next to me. Almost instantly, that magnetic pulls started in my chest, but I fought it and tried to ignore him, rudeness aside. I didn't care if he was the fucking Adviser of fucking Kelta, he just needed to stay away from me.

"You smell of fireflies."

I almost flinched. He knew where I'd been? How long had he been following me? Or better still, how long had he known? Did he notice -?

"Fireflies use their lights to attract mates," he continued, tossing his hair, "but sometimes accidentally attract the same gender."

He paused.

It was time to get out of that tub. Trying not to shake, I hooked my elbow on the edge and prepared to lever myself up, but Seign was not finished.

_Good smell home nice warm sweet familiar go -_

"The coronation is in three days, Remmson," he said.

I let out a shaky breath and turned it into a half-chuckle. "And why should I care?"

"So is the tournament. You will compete against me in the last battle, and the price of losing, as you should know by now...is your life."

Now, I've had plenty of death threats in my _long _lifetime, and not a one of the contenders and pretenders have been able to rattle me. I was the top of the food chain, after all. Nothing could shake me from that perch.

Until now. He had to be the first in my history to actually do it.

I paused in my attempt to get out, in which both sides of me were screaming for opposite directions, but I had to do this. You know what they say - curiosity killed the half-Quig.

"Why?" I said, not sure if I was challenging him or not. I was mostly just curious. "You act as though you are concerned with this one's well-being."

"Because you are unique, and I am the best."

"No much of a reason, but thanks for the flattery. If I do, I won't go down that easily."

Seign smiled, and my blood heated, flushing over my face and chest in a wave that made me see spots. The backs of my eyes felt strained, and I almost lost my hold on the side of the bath. Fighting for control before I busted my head open on the side, I clenched my teeth and turned away, trying to get my breath and block out the blaring, incoherent thoughts and feelings that barraged me.

_Go warm familiar safe nice smell sweet soft good hot **move**_ -

I shook my head as the thoughts turned treacherous. _No, leave, **now.**_

I regained my spot, if not my composure, on the edge and hoisted myself out, grabbed a towel, and concentrated on not staggering out into the hallway and into the bedroom. I flopped face down onto the bed and pressed my face into the damp towel, screwing my eyes against the battery. My fingers curled into claws on the sheets, my nails sinking in for a purchase, anchoring me to whatever world this was as I fought to stay grounded.

And then it was gone, just like that. I blinked, looked around, and the fever was just...gone. It had settled across my face as though I were blushing extra hard, making me dizzy, and then just suddenly lifted. There was no trace that it had ever happened. No lethargy, no swimming mind trying to sink into enveloping blackness. It just vanished on the spot.

There was a knock at my door that, I admit, made me jump.

"Remmson?"

It was Nails. I breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Are you done in the bath?"

"Uh," I said, remembering. "Yeah. But, um, be careful. There's someone else in here."

There was a pause, then, "I don't see anyone else but the servants. Do you want me to send Cerith to you?"

I almost cut him off with a "NO". She was the _last_ person I wanted to see right now.

"...Alright," he said, obviously disturbed by my crankiness. "I'll be out in a little while..."

I sighed, levering myself onto my elbows. "Right, Nails."

Waiting a moment more, I finally pushed myself up all the way and redressed into another fresh pile of clothes. I didn't want to look overly fancy when I went to the cremation or the feast, but I had to look good. The fur that I'd been wearing all day, as comforting as it was, was still a nuisance. I settled with what I'd worn while sparring with Chen'x, but with a red top, and wore only the smaller necklace and the earrings. I stuck the feathers back into my braid, traded in the large bracelets for small gold chain ones, and then, to finish the whole fancy scale, contemplated another large Quig pelt.

Nails came in a moment later, just in time for me to ask.

According to him, all I had to do was just attach the middle of the top edge to my shoulders by straps and just let the 'wings' hang down. By the way it was cut, it came down over my arms, and if I held my arms out, it wrapped over them like a fluffy stole.

For a woman.

But I took Nails's word for it this time; it was indeed a male's outfit. I had a lighter pelt than the last that I'd been wearing all day, and the fur felt nice on the back of my neck. It left enough space around the top to show off the low cut of the tunic, in which the necklace that I wore rested on my collarbones neatly.

Nails was wearing a more dress-up version than he had today, more Kelta-ish; he was wearing a tunic like mine, but in green, but decorated in fluffy, multicolor feathers that lined the arms and bottom. I guess it was his favorite - I wouldn't want to be caught dead in something like that - and he finished it off with beaded necklaces and bracelets of wood and jade, the same for each ear, a piece of glaze.

I squawked in imitation of a parrot and he gave me a look that clearly said, "Keep pushing your luck." I snickered, and he grinned reluctantly.

That was better.

We started out for the cremation, and before I got to the door, I self-consciously spared a glance back.

But no, there was no one there in the place besides the servants seeing us off, bowing at the door.

I sighed and followed Nails out.

-------

You can maybe imagine what it's like to see three suns setting at once. I know that before I came here, I'd never thought about it, never given myself time for that bit of imagination. All I knew was that the longing to just take a frecking picture and show the others back home was stronger than ever, but I pushed it away. This was someone else's funeral, after all.

I won't go into detail about the cremation, but it was a pyre like you'd see in the history of Second Earth, no stove. Nails's mother was wrapped in some sort of gentle, transparent gauze that softened her already beautiful features, but I suppose it is a ritual here. Kroma, finally appearing from wherever he'd been for the past few hours, passed me a decorated mask (yes, with feathers), and I slid it over my face.

Nails did the same, and stood further away from me. I didn't have a problem with that. According to my observations in the past, funerals are very depressing things to go to. At first, I must admit that I saw this as a major waste of time - it was like mourning a thanksgiving turkey on the table. (Eat it, not cry over it.) All the sad faces, all the aura of emotions...I just couldn't understand what it was about.

And then...

I may be "macho". I may be strong, tough as my own nails, and with a bite that literally competes with my bark.

I may be nearly invincible in my world, and may be mostly an egotistical, emotionless bastard that cares nothing for anyone else.

But throughout all of the stories of me, throughout the pages of my journals, never let it be believed, if already said, that I don't know or remember what it's like to lose someone close to you. When Lane left -

- I'm not going to talk about it.

Anyway, because this was a medieval funeral pyre, and I have a sensitive nose, I jumped onto a building downwind and watched the sunset instead. I didn't know that I was supposed to bring another offering, considering that I'd already done it earlier, but I guess it was somewhat obvious. So, there was another reason for getting away from there. Maybe I'm just that self-conscious.

I mean, Re was already giving me a disgusted look behind her mask, and I'm certain it had nothing to do with the smell of burning flesh, either. I watched as everyone stepped forward and placed their offering onto the body. Nails took a torch and touched the sides of the pyre, and the whole thing ignited, enveloping the corpse in a blanket of crackling flames.

I didn't like this. It was too still, a perfect time to reminisce and concentrate on the past, and I just didn't like it at all.

The procession below (other nobles and servants, mid-class, and the royalty, of course) performed a sort of slow, shuffling dance around the fire, with a song just as depressing. I outright refused to lift my own voice; I draw the line at singing. However, I'm not a complete punk, no matter what others might think.

Carefully, I flexed my middle finger and flicked it hard, severing a lock of black hair. I braided it quickly, then wadded it up and flung it off the side of the building. It landed into the fire with barely a hiss.

When you lose someone, it's like having a limb missing, or so I hear.

That's the nice, safe way of putting it for the kids.

It is unimaginable, indescribable...inevitable.

I really don't want to talk about it.

I noticed a shadow dart across the top of the building and automatically nodded my head to Kroma. He walked up and sat next to me, dangling his legs over the side and looking at the sunset as well. I couldn't blame him. He seemed much more like an animal than any of us, besides me, and I guess that's why it didn't surprise me that he was up here in the lee with me instead. Re was still looking up at me, and I suppose I was thankful that the mask hid my expression. I'd show her later if she kept throwing dirty looks.

But eventually she looked away, and I got the strangest feeling that she understood something about me. Truth be told, that thought made me a little irked and confused, but hey - women.

**Word count: 13665  
**


End file.
